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POETICAL WORKS 

OF 

ORINGE SMITH CRARY 

AND 

GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 



ILLUSTRATED 



COLLECTED AND PUBLISHED BY 

GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 

CANTON, N. Y. 
1914 






Copyright 1903, by 
GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 



SEP -8 1914 

Commercial Advertiser Presses 

Carlton, N. Y. 

1914. 

©CI.A:3S0837 



PREFACE 



In presenting this little book of poems to the public, I do 
so to meet a popular demand for it that originated among those 
who knew the poet during his life time, and admired his natural 
gift, for true poets are born poets ; they cannot be manufactured 
in institutions of learning, though education serves to polish the 
genuine diamond, making it brighter. 

Oringe Smith Crary was born in Vermont March 13th, 
1803 and died March 24th 1889, being eighty-six years af age 
at the time of his death. His father, Nathan Crary, was of 
Scotch descent and a soldier in the Revolution and a Methodist 
minister. The poet was a first class scholar and taught school 
for many years ; was school commissioner for several years ; 
could spell any word in the English language and give its de- 
finition without a moment's hesitation. He had a poetical gift 
as rare and original as the diamonds in his native hills. He 
would grasp words and put them into even metred lines to ex- 
press any sentiment he might wish. It seemed to cost him no 
effort for he would reel it off as fast as he could talk. 

His memory was something very wonderful. It was like a 
graphaphone. Repeat to him the first line of any poem he ever 
composed and he would repeat the rest verbatim as he com- 
posed it years before. He was known as the off-hand Pierre- 
pont Poet over a wide section of country and associated with 
Governor Wright, Preston King and Roscius W. Juduson who 
spoke of his poetry in the highest terms of praise. He was a 
life long Republican and his songs were sung at each campaign 
and always brought the crowd down with cheers. 

Realizing self praise don't go a great way, 

I\ly own work I will leave alone, 

For on looking back I find 'tis a fact, 

That no man gets praise till he's gone. 

So I leave these few lines and wild jangling rhymes 

To be harshly or be kindly judged. 

So I'll patiently wait since I can't know my fate. 

And my happiness none should begrudge. 

George Lucian Crary, 
The Adirondack Poet. 



GENEALOGY 

OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 

Peter Crary died in Groton, Conn., in 1708. His son Rob- 
ert's son was Christopher Crary; Christopher's son was Ezra, 
and Ezra's son was Nathan Crary, and Nathan's son was 
Oringe Smith Crary, the poet and father of George Lucian 
Crary, also poet and pubhsher of this book. 

Nathan Crary, grandfather of George Lucian Crary, was 
born in Clarendon, Vt., 1762, died 1852. He married Lydia 
Arnold. He enlisted at the age of fifteen as a drummer boy in 
the Revolution. 

Ezra Crary, their son, born 1784, died 1844; married 
Sobrina Hopkins. Their children were John, Armenas, 
Nathaniel, Osgood, Hannah, Malinda. 

Dolly Crary, born 1787, died 1819, married Aaron Howard 
and their children were, Oliver, Nathan, Appleton, Orin, 
Merrill. 

Appleton Crary married Roby Hopkins, and their children 
were, Truman, Ezra, A\'illiam, Nathan, Royal, Orin, Merrill, 
Polly, Dolly, Lydia, and Praxey. 

Nathan Clark enlisted in the IMexican war and was in six- 
Averell ; one son. Case Crary. 

Lydia Crarv, born 1793, died 1855, married Warren Clark; 
their children were, William, Edward and Nathan. 

Nathan Crary enlisted in the Mexican war and was in six' 
teen battles. 

Orin Crary, born 1796, married Laura Clark. Had three 
6ons, Edward, Henian and Harry. 

Edward Crary, born 1801, died 1853. Married Rubia 
Clark. Their children, Edwin, Laura Ann and Caroline. 

Oringe Smith Crary, the poet, born in Vermont March 13, 
1803, died March 24, 1889. Married Minerva Sanford, who was 
born 1803, died Jany 8, 1895. Their children, Eliza Jane, 
Marcia, Rufus Richard. George Lucian, John Leslie, Caroline, 
Minerva, Emerett, Emogene Alaria. 

George Lucian Crary, the poet, married Julia Lavilla Clark. 
Their children were Cora, Carrie, Minerva, Hancy ]\Iarion, 



George Clark, Julia Carmelita, Winnie, Eugenia, Berdia 
Augusta. 

George Clark Crary married twice, first Grace Fifield, who 
left him one daughter Ethel ; and his second marriage was to 
Lenora Brown, who gave him a daughter, Edith Mauldin. 

Stephen Arnold Douglas was second cousin of Oringe 
Smith Crary on his mother's side, his mother being Lydia 
Arnold. Stephen Arnold Douglas was the famous Democrat 
who ran against Lincoln for president. 

Sobrina Crary, born 1806, died 1869, married Elijah 
Smead. No children. 

John Wesley Crary, born 1808, died 1902 ; married Per- 
melia Holmes. Their children were Charles, George, William, 
Hattie. 

Stephen Arnold Crary married Juliette Reynolds. Their 
children were, Betsy, Ellen, Judson, Alson, William, Alahlon. 
He married a second time, Mary Montgomery. Their children 
were Ryland and Case. 

Julia Crary, born 1814, died 1890. Married Asa Good- 
nough. Their children were Thircleve, x\ndrew% Julia and Orin. 

The other line of Crarys is John, brother of Peter Crary, 
who did at Groton, Conn., in 1708 and the descent was Roger, 
Joseph, Leonard Proctor Crary, George, and Dr. George 
Waldo Crary, now living at 771 Madison Ave., New York City. 

HIS MOTHER'S ANCESTORS 

Traced back to William Partch, whose children w^ere Wil- 
liam Partch and Molly Partch. Molly Partch married a Lock- 
wood; their daughter was Lydia Lockwood who married 
Zachariah Sanford. Their children were Clark, who was a sol- 
dier in the war of 1812 ; Polly, Hepsabah, Isarel, a soldier in the 
war of 1812; Sally, Orilly, Samantha, Lydia, Eliza, Clarinda, 
Minerva, Nelson and Stanlev. 

Minerva Sanford married Oringe Smith Crary, father of 
George Lucian Crary, as appears in line traced in the first part 
of this genealogy. 



POEMS 

BY ORINGE SMITH CRARY 

THE BIRD OF PARADISE 

In the days of yore when first the pair 

Were placed in Eden's bhssful bowers- 
Adam the young and EA^e the fair — 
To eat the fruit and pick the flowers, 

'Tis said a bird of Golden hue, 

In fields of light that had her birth, 

Waved her bright wing and gently flew 
To visit this our Mother Earth. 

She came to Eden's blissful bowers, 

And visited the happy pair. 
She had the will and had the power. 

To free from grief and pain and care. 

Where e'er she waved her magic wing. 

All nature smil'd as she pass'd by — 
The startling doe and timerous fawn, 

Stood unconcern'd nor strove to fly; 

The lamb and lion on the lawn, 

The happy hours beguil'd; 
The birds and beasts and even man, 

Himself, seem'd tame and mild. 

The eagle and the turtle dove 

Were seen together on one bough, 

And all creation seem'd to love. 

Although they hate each other now. 

But envy and ambition hurl'd 

From seats above gave hatred birth — 

No sooner had he reach'd our world 
Than peace forever fled from earth. 



THE YOUTHFUL VOLUNTEER 

Composed and sung when the first company left Potsdam 1861. 
I saw a scene at Sumter Fort, 

I shan't forget for years ; 
Towards the Fort their steps they bend, 

Like fiends from the infernal den ; 
And fire upon our starving men — 

Who fight like volunteers. 

I dream'd I saw a numerous throng. 

And all devoid of fear. 
And marching on with all their might. 

For they were going South to fight. 
To guard the Red, the Blue and White — 

The youthful volunteers. 

And I beheld amid the throng 

A few of riper years. 
That rather go and fight the knaves 

Then how down to them Hke their slaves, 
And they were marching with the braves — 

The youthful volunteers. 

God and my country is the cry 

That evr'y where I hear; 
The aged sire smiles on his son. 

Who buckhng on his sword and gun 
Resolving not to be outdone — 

The youthful volunteer. 

Upon the sanguine field of fight 

The din of war I hear ; 
The rebels now begin to quake 

And to their heels I see them take — 
Palmetto men and rattle snakes — 

Can't stand our volunteers. . 

The shout goes up "Our country's safe," 

Dismiss your idle fears. 
The sympathizers with the South 



Now hide their heads and shut their mouths ; 
Of treason there's a general drouth — 
Caus'd by our volunteers. 

Let every freeman join the song, 

And shout from shore to shore; 
Let freedom clap her joyful wings ; 

Let old and young the anthems sing 
And make the fields and forests ring 

That treason is no more. 

And while we bid the boys adieu, 

And drop the parting tear, 
Their country's weal may they hold fast, 

Until the storm of life is past. 
May they all meet in heaven at last — 

The youthful volunteers. 

-1^ ^ T* 

RHODE ISLAND, THE HOME OF MY FOREFATHERS 

There's a beautiful land that lies far in the East, 
By those who have been there I'm told, 

Where women are dress'd like ladies at least, 
For their husbands have plenty of gold. 

Where girls are as fair and as sweet as the rose, 
That blooms by the brook in the vale. 

And men are good looking as you may suppose, 
And neither drink whiskey nor ale. 

'Tis the land of my fathers — the home of their birth. 

And I cherish its memory still. 
And trust that I shall while I live on this earth. 

Though the poet now lives on the hill 

But there is a land far more dear to my heart; 

A land far of¥ in the skies. 
Where none ever sigh and friends never part. 

And none ever sicken and die. 



8 



1 trust in my heart that we all shall meet there, 
When time to us here is no more — 

The glories and beauties of heaven to share, 
And bow at his feet and adore. 



THE DEATH OF SH.AS WRIGHT 

How sad and thrilling was the sound. 
How many hearts with anguish bled, 

When echo in the every sound 
Proclaimed that Silas Wright was dead. 

More startling than an awful burst 
Of thunder on a cloudless sky — 

For then the heart has learned the worst. 
And knows the danger has pass'd by. 

But here the worst is yet to learn — 
A chasm made as dark as night — 

Where shall we look or whither turn 
To find another Silas Wright ? 

In private life ; in public state, 

So plain, so frank so pure, so tried; 

*^o calm, so firm, so good, so great ; 
So fit to be a nation's guide. 

And can a nation e're forget. 

The noble deeds of freedom's sons ? — 
They'er fresh in all our memories yet, 

As fresh as when they first were done. 

And while the stars of freedom light 
This land, the home of liberty — 

The memory of our Silas Wright, 
Embalm'd in all our hearts shall be. 

He never from his duty swerved. 
But labored on from day to day — 



He won the name he well deserved, 
The Cato of America. 



* * * 



DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE 
SOUTHERN MINISTER 

At night while millions were asleep, 
Near Hell I took my station ; 
And from that dungeon dark and deep 
O'er heard this conversation. 

Ghost — 
Hail Prince of darkness, ever hail; 
Adored by each infernal, 
I've come among your gang to wail, 
And taste of death eternal; 
To weep and wail in endless pain. 
Among your frightful legions, 
To gnaw my tongue and clank my chains, 
In these infernal regions. 

Demon — 
Where are you from ; 
What makes you look so frantic; 
Are you from Carolina's strand. 
Just west of the Atlantic ? 
Are you that man of blood and birth. 
Devoid of himian feeling. 
The man I saw when last on earth, 
In human cattle dealing, 
Who tore the infant from the breast; 
That you might sell its mother. 
Whose craving mind could never rest, 
'Till you had sold a brother; 
Who gave the sacrament to those 
Whose chains and handcuffs rattl'd. 
Whose backs soon after felt thy blows 
]\Iore heavy, than thy cattle ? 

10 



Ghost — 
I'm from the South, 
And I was there a teacher; 
Saw men in chains ; with laughing eyes, 
I was the slaveman's preacher. 
In tassl'd pulpits gay and fine, 
I strove to please the tryants — 
To prove that slavery was divine. 
And what the Scriptures warrant. 
And when I saw the horrid sight 
Of slaves by torture dying, 
And told their masters all was right, 
I knew that I was lying. 
I knew the time would soon roll 'round 
When hell would be their portion — 
When they in turn in fetters bound 
Would plow the fiery ocean. 
I knew all this, and who can doubt, 
I felt a sad misgiving; 
But still you know if I spoke out 
That I should lose my living. 
They made me fat ; they paid me well. 
To cry down abolition ; 
I slept, I died, I woke in Hell — 
How alter'd my condition. 
I now am in a sea of fire. 
Where fury ever rages. 
I am a slave and can't get free. 
And must be so for age. 
Yes when the sun and moon shall fade. 
And fire the rocks, dissever, 
I must sink down beneath the shade 
And feel God's wrath for ever 

The fiend heard this, and with a yell. 

That made his chains to rattle, 

Resounding through the vaults of Hell 

Like to the raging battle 

"Rejoice my friends in chains," he cries, 

"A moment leave your wailing. 

And toss vour fettered arms on high. 



11 



Our Kingdom is prevailing." 

Peal joined to peal and yell to yell, 

Throughout those frightful regions, 

In notes that none can raise or swell, 

But the infernal legions. 

Wave broke on wave with horrid glare 

Along the fiery ocean. 

And ghosts and demons mingled there, 

In tumult and commotion. 

''How long," they cry, "how long shall we 

From hope of pardon serv'd. 

Sink down and plow the fiery sea?" 

The answer was ''forever" 

The Ghost stood trembling all the while, 

He saw the scene transpiring, 

With soul agast and visage wild. 

All hope was now retiring. 

The demon cries on vengeances bent, 

"I say in haste retire 

And you shall have a nigger sent 

To tend and punch the fire." 

^ ^ ^ 

THE FAMOUS BUCK OF CRANBERRY LAKE 

A famous bucy which long had roam'd 
And made the lakes and ponds his home. 
Upon the lilly pads he fed. 
And browsed when other plants were dead. 
With his sharp horns he did not fail 
To reign the king of hill and dale. 
Woe to the buck, an awful woe. 
Who dare the signs of fight to show; 

For if they mingled in the strife, 

They wore the wounds and scars for life. 

The hounds that chased him through the vale 

Have ne'er returned to tell the tale ; 

The prowling wolf that struck his track, 

12 



And followed on has not come back; 
The bloody panther and his mate, 
F'rom him have met no better fate. 

In vain their arts the hunters tried; 
Too keen of scent, too eagle eyed, 
The wary creature never slept. 
And if on him the hunter crept 
He seemed to vanish in the air. 
For when they called he was not there. 
By chance a dewclaw he did lack, 
And every hunter knew his track. 

For twenty years none had the luck 

To even wound this famous buck. 

At last a hunter struck his track. 

And on a spruce knot hung his pack, 

Resolved at once his luck to try. 

Says he, ''old buck, its you and I, 

You think, perhaps, your life is charmed. 

Well never mind 'tis just as well 

My trusty rifle breaks the spell." 

He follow'd to his chosen ground, 

Then left the track and swung around. 

And now along with cat-like step 

Up the steep cliff the hunter crept. 

And peering o'er far down below. 

He saw him lying in the snow. 

'Twas there he lay and looking back. 
As if to watch and guard his track. 
He raised his rifle like a dart, 
And aimed it at a vital part. 
The whizzing bullet first to warn. 
Crashed through his body, struck his horn- 
He gave at once a fearful bound, 
But left one antler on the ground. 

The hunter saw with practiced eye. 
The bleeding stump as he passed by. 
At forty rods another ball 



IS 



Gives Golden still a louder call ; 
And when he found it was all day, 
He turned around and stood at bay. 
He placed a ball beneath his eye, 
Then thought his hatchet he would try. 
And now he struck blow after blow. 

Till his last horn lay on the snow. 

And now at length a luckier blow, 

Laid Golden quivering on the snow. 

Quick through his throat he thrust his knife, 

And ended his eventful life. 

No more around the ponds he 11 feed 

Or pluck the grass or tender weed. 

His flesh is now the food of man. 

His old tough hide for mittens tanned. 

To thus get shot was his bad luck — 

'Twas George L. Crary killed this buck. 

'I* ^ ^ 

A SOLDIER'S FAREWELL 

(Tune, Old Oaken Bucket.) 
Farewell to my home and the place of my childhood ; 

My country has called me and I must obey. 
Adieu ye green meadows, ye field, and ye wildwoods, 

I go to a land that is far, far away. 

Adieu my dear mother who rocked your Darius 
And sang to your darling the beautiful lay. 

Though of social converse the fates may deny us, 
ril write to you oft when Fm far, far away. 

Farewell my dear father, I never would grieve you ; 

Your kindness to me T can never repay. 
My duty has called, and Fm forced now to leave you 

But oh don't forget me when Fm far away. 

Adieu my dear sisters, I see your tears flowing, 
Suppress all your sorrow and strive to be gay, 

14 



To fight for our flag and my country, I'm going ; 
I must go to the front and I cannot delay. 

We'll make all our enemies show the white feather, 
And all of their warships we'll soon drive away, 

And then I'll come home and we'll all meet together ; 
Then hail to the hero you'll hear the bands play. 



CHASED BY THE WOLVES 

My father sent me for the cows, 

When I was very young — 
O'er hill and vale I often strayed, 

My feet with nettles stung. 

I did not fear the bears by day, 
Nor heed the wolves by night, 

I sung and whistled on the way 
And thought it all was right. 

Old Phil, she wore a splendid bell. 

As any one around; 
The tinkle, tinkle I could tell. 

From any one in town. 

One day I started rather late ; 

The bell seemed far away; 
I pressed on prompted by my fate. 

And dared not to delay. 

The night set in, 'twas very dark. 

And I should lost my way. 
But for the tinkle of the bell, 

I soon had gone astry. 

And now the horrid wolves, I heard, 
My friends I'll give good bail 

The cows came rushing by in fright. 
The wolves were on their trail. 



15 



And so I climbed into a tree, 

For to avoid my fate, 
But by my story you will see. 

That I was rather late. 

And now the wolves came howHng 'round 

And looked so mad at me. 
They gnashed their teeth, tore up the ground. 

And gnawed my little tree. 

The little tree was rather small. 

And if they gnawed that way, 
I knew that it must shortly fall, 

And I must fall their prey. 

The little tree gnawed nearly down. 

Stood trembling in the breeze. 
Ten minutes more and you would found. 

No lines composed like these. 

I thought of home and of my friends, 

A tear was in my eye. 
All hope was fled, I said my prayers. 

And gave it up to die. 

But hark ! a shot rings on the air. 

And every wolf is still, 
And the leader of the band lay there 

A proof of brother's skill. 

The ball had pierced the leader's brain, 

And hit another too. 
His dog appeared now on the scene, 

And seized his wounded foe. 

And there they struggled on the ground. 

The rest were glad to go, 
''Ez" brought his heavy hatchet down 

And kill'd him with a blow. 

And now he shouted loud and long^ 

16 




Oringe Smith Crary 



As down the tree I slid, 
And I joined in; who says 'twas wrong 
To see the creatures dead. 

I have a cane, saved from the tree, 
Which I preserve with care. 

The tree is rotten now you see, 
The stump's not even there. 

But still fond memory hngers 'round, 

That ever sacred spot 
Where that birch tree was found 

That changed the poet's lot. 



A DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE RACE 

The Healy horse, I write about. 
That soundly licked the pony out, 

Which was admired by aU 'twere there, 
When Warner drove him at the fair. 

Tich perched on his precarious seat, 

The o'ft repeated word repeats, 

''Go on ! go on !" he loudly cries. 

His very best young Black Hawk tries. 

And now along the smoking plain, 
With head erect and tightened reins, 

He dashes on at railroad speed, 
And in fine style the pony leads. 

He seemed to dart, or rather fly. 
And all seem'd pleas'd as well as I. 

The men set up one general cry, 

• The women waved their kerchiefs high. 

From hill to vale the echo sped, ^^ 
"The Healy horse, ahead, ahead." 
The pony now broke up his trot. 

And ran and cantered and what not. 
The driver shrieked and drew the rein, 

17 



To force him to a trot again. 

But do you ask, 'Svas pony slow?" 
To you I quickly answer *'no". 

Although the course he oft had tried, 
The fact it cannot be denied, 

His match, he never came across, 
Until he met the Healy horse. 



A DOG'S SAD EXPERIENCE 

These lines were put in the clog's mouth by the boys and 
the dog set up against his Master's door so he would fall in 
when the door was opened, and addressed to his Master. 

Dear Master, I have come at last, 
To tell the sorrows I have past, 
It was upon the Pierrepont hills. 
About two miles from Crary Mills, 
I thought it would be quite as cheap 
To catch and kill my neighbor's sheep, 
They took me up and had me tried 
And here I stand without my hide. 

^ * ♦ 

"THE BLACK FOX" 

Take off on a peddler who paid nineteen dollars for a black 
cat skin supposing it w^as a black fox. 

Poor Esau has a crooked back, 

But still that is no sin. 

In Colton he got on a track. 

And caught a black cat skin. 

He bought and stuff'd him in his box 

Although he had no tail. 

And he who thought he had a fox 

Had cat skins now for sale. 

18- 



This poor old cat lived in the woods, 

Till he was old and grey. 

Till he had seen full many a cat, 

'Twas quite as smart as he. 

Till caught and skinn'd and tail'd and sold. 

And stuffed in Esau's box. 

Whoever trades with him again 

To cheat him sure Vv^ill fail, 

For he will never buy a skin, 

Unless it has a tail. 



THE BATTLE OF BORODINO 

The sun scarce rose on Bordoino's plain, 

When proud Napoleon grasping on the rein. 
Sprang to the back of his fierce neighing steed. 

As if the fates destruction had decreed. 
He drew his sword, its hilt with diamonds shine. 

And rode in front of the fast forming lines. 
And if a column for a moment stands, 

"On, on," Napoleon gave the dread command. 

Horses and horsemen -ready for the fight, 

Ranged in fine order, stood upon the right. 
And now they hear the warlike bugle sound. 

Seized with impatience foam and paw the ground. 
"Fire, fire," he cried, which ran along the line. 

And ere the word had gone its destined round 
Two thousand cannons thundered back the sound ; 

Whose horrid contents in their swift advance, 

Now poured destruction on the foes of France, 

An equal number from the Russian side 
Spread desolation far and wide. 

"Forward, brave boys," the Emp'ror now cries, 
*'Who turns his back this day on Russia dies." 

The Russian hussar grasping on his lance. 
In solid columns meet the pride of France, 

Sword clash'd with sword and steel with ringing, steel ; 

19 



Death reigned triumphant o'er that maddening field. 

The smoke shut out the sun, the source of day, 
And naught but flashes Ht the warriors way, 

O'er heaps of slain the ruthless w^arhorse trod. 
And many a noble warrior press'd the sod. 

Proud Russia fought and still refused to yield, 

Till eighty thousand warriors strewed the field. 

Those eighty thousand, but twelve hours before 
Beheld the sun, shall see that sim no more. 

Oh mornful thought that fills my soul with pain. 
Men fight and murder that a worm may reign. 



THE SHADOW OF A SHADE 

A gentleman the other day. 

Called at our office by the way. 

While on his arm all blushing hung 
A daughter beautiful and young. 

"I've brought," said he, "my little maid. 
To get the shadow of a shade. 

He viewed our pictures, call'd them nice. 
But when he had inquired the price, 

'T won't give that," we heard him say. 
As from our door he turned away. 

In a few hours he came again 

And brought his daughter's last remains. 

We saw the heaving of his breast. 
As he to us these words address'd, 

''A hundred dollars I will give, 

But make it look as when she liv'd. 

"Alas, my friend," we quickly cried, 
"We should have took it e'er she died. 

For if a thousand you should give. 
It would not look as when she lived." 



Now you who would not be betrayed, 
Secure the shadow of a shade, 

Before in death they close their eyes 
And cruel death our art defies. 



* * * 
POTSDAM AND WATERTOWN RAILROAD 

Potsdam, Old Canton and Dekalb, 

And Gouverneur are striving, 
And all the way to Watertown, 

But there is no conniving. 
We only wish to have a road. 

We'll have one in the sequel, 

To have each portion bear its load, 

And thus divide it equal. 
Let Racketville stick up her quills, 

Columbia turn out Tory, 
There's Ogdensburg and Dr. S. 

We'll leave them in their glory. 

Let Boston boast she's on the coast, 

Nearby the briny ocean. 
It will be seen we have the means 

And that we've quite a notion 
To let them know we have the dough, 

To put the cars in motion. 

Though far away from Boston Bay 

Or any other ocean. 
The iron horse upon his course, 

Will pass each village snorting. 
While just in rear the car you'll hear. 

Like distant thunders sporting. 

From vale to hill the whistle shrill. 

Will frighten sheep and cattle. 
While up and down with jarring 'round 

21 



The trains will onward rattle. 
Early and late borne down with weight, 
Bntter and cheese and lumber; 

With passengers and other freight, 

Too numerous to number. 
Then hail, all hail, our railroad band 

Let echoing sound prolong 
Their fame throughout our favor'd land 

And join the general song. 

* * * 



AN ACROSTIC ON QUEEN VICTORIA 

Queen Victoria, what a station. 
Under God, she holds her crown, 
Evr'y land and evr'y nation, 
Evr'y tribe her greatness own. 
Never since the first creation, 

Virtuous queen reigned o'er such realm. 
In the great ship British Nation, 
Calmly managing the helm. 
The dominions of Victoria 
O'er vast seas and lands extend. 
Rising, setting in his glory. 
In the west as Sol descends. 
Ask he'll answer here they blend. 

^ ^ ^ 



THE DRUNKARD'S HOME 

Oh, don't you remember our once happy home. 
The orchard that stood on the hill, 

Where hour after hour in our childhood we roam'd. 
And picked up the fruit at our will, 

That farm is not ours and that orchard is sold, 

22 



We are driven from our once happy home. 
Poor mother now shivers with hunger and cold 
And 'tis all because father loved rum. 

Oh, don't you remember our sweet little Jane, 

Who met you so oft at the door. 
Who sang those nice sonnets, those sweet stirring strains, 

As she danced on the new sanded floor ? 
She caught a sad cold when we left our dear home, 

Her lungs, with a cough were oppressed. 
Consumption set in and she sank to the tomb, 

For the grave could alone give her rest. 

Oh, don't you remember our once smiling boy, 

The hope of the hill and the plain. 
The pet of his father, his mother's chief joy; 

Who warned him but warned him in vain; 
But led by his father he seized on the bowl. 

And mingled mid quarrel and strife, 
Till ruined alike both in body and soul 

He now is a maniac for life. 

Poor mother now weeps both by night and by day. 

And sighs to be laid in the tomb. 
My husband belongs to the Sons by the way. 

So I hope to escape such a doom. 



^ ^ ^ 



DECORATION SONG 

Come friends and listen to this song, 

A story it will tell — 
Of our brave boys who went away 

In southern climes to dwell. 
How oft they thought of home and friends, 

Their children and their wives, 
They meant then* country to defend 

Though it should cost their lives 



23 



Chorus — 

They went to fight for home and friends, 

And mingle in the strife, 
Our glorious banner to defend. 

And save the nations life. 

How many a noble wife said "go," 

Then sat her down to weep, 
Her little children ask for pa. 

And cry themselves to sleep. 
Her husband wounded by the foe, 

Is dragged to dungeons dark, 
His fate, his comrades do not know, 

Crushed out was hopes last spark. 

Chorus — 

How many never did return, 

Or see their loved ones more — 
How many found a soldiers grave 

Upon that distant shore. 
And that is why we've come today 

To decorate this shrine 
And 'round the graves of those we love 

These wreaths of flowers to twine. 

Chorus : — 

And though but a few years have past 

Their ranks are growing thin. 
And only just a few are left 

Of the thousands mustered in. 
And when a few more years roll 'round 

They'll drop along the route 
And hear the sound of muffled drum 

That musters the last one out 

Chorus : — 
Then let us give these noble boys 

24 



The honors they have won. 
And let them hear a nation say — 

"Brave boys, well done, well done." 
And let the sons of Veterans feel 

A noble, honest pride 
That 'twas for liberty and right 

Their fathers fought and died. 



DEATH THE CRUEL MONSTER 

Yes, heaven's decree'd that man should die — 
Should close his eyes on all below, 

And in the tomb forgotten lie, 

While mountains rise and rivers flow; 

Since from this doom no man is free 
We must submit to heaven's decree. 

The old, the young, the great, the small. 
The rich, the poor, the king, the. slave, 

Must all obey death's chilling call. 
And sink alike into the grave — 

No mortal can retain his breath. 
Or bribe the cruel monster death. 

Sad are the lines which I have penned. 
And still they're facts that's strictly true. 

For all must come there in the end. 
And that includes both me and you. 

We'll need a Christ, our friend to be. 
He'll guide us through Eternity. 

^t >fi "^ 

THE DEATH OF AN ONLY SON 

Yes thou art gone; the tale is told; 

A father's hope, a mother's joy. 
And still in fancy I behold 

Them bending o'er their dying boy. 



25 



Still hoping that he might be saved, 
To smooth their passage to the grave. 

So fade our brightest hopes away, 

Our fairest prospects disappear, 
When in the grave our friends we lay. 

And o'er their loss we drop a tear, 
Bestow a tribute on their worth, 

And weep for those we loved on earth. 

But faith comes in to cheer our sight. 

And wipe our falling tears away, 
Immortal hope dispels the night, 

And we behold a brighter day; 
A cloudless sky, a deathless shore. 

Where friends will meet and part no more. 

Sleep on, my friend, sleep on, in peace. 
Till Gabriels trump shall bid you rise. 

And your last sleep at length shall cease, 
And thou awake in Paradise, 

Where love thy highest notes shall swell. 
Till we meet there, farewell, farewell ! 

* * * 

WHITFIELD'S VISIT TO ENGLAND 

I went to revisit the home of my birth; 

The place where so oft we had gather'd. 
To sit a few hours by my own native hearth 

And to visit the grave of my father. 
So I crossed the Atlantic, that wide spreading sea. 

That washes my own native shore. 
While thoughts of my childhood, came rushing by me, 

Which memory had laid up in store. 

And now I'm approaching my own native land, 
And shall soon reach my father's own door. 

But father is safe on the evergreen strand 
And he'll welcome his William no more ; 

26 



In the little chvirch yard now he silently lies, 
Nor knows that 1 stand by him weeping, 

And not till his Savior appears in the skies, 
Will he ever awake from his sleeping. 

And now I must leave my own native land. 

It fills my whole soul with emotion, 
For while I am here my own little band 

Await me far over the ocean. 
My land of adoption, my own happy home, 

The place of all places the dearest, 
Then why should I harbor a wish for to roam 

From the friends to my heart that are nearest. 

* * * 

BURNING OF THE SLAVE 

As I stroll'd through the south, beguiling the hours. 

By viewing her fruits and her beautiful flowers, 
With her beautiful pines so tall and so green 

And her lovely magnolias that add to the scene. 
But my eyes and my mind were soon turned from this scene, 

By the cries of a wretch that I saw on the green, 
Stretched out at full length and I saw he was bound, 

By stakes, that were forked, drove fast in the ground. 

And his master was there by my guide, I was told. 

And a Devil incarnate he was to behold. 
"Place the fire," he commands, 'at his hands and his feet 

Who dared for to steal from his master to eat. 
His servants obeyed him with caution and care, 

And the smoke of his torment soon darkened the air. 
It may be a lesson to those who survive." 

''Blow, blow up the fire, we'll burn him alive," 

They moved up the fire towards the seat of his soul. 
Till his hands and his feet were all burn'd to a coal. 

His prayers and his shrieks, his groans and his tears, 
They still haunt my vision and ring in my ears. 

And the preacher was there, he'd been call'd on to pray, 

27 



For the victim whose Hfe they were taking away, 
He drew down his face near as long as my arm, 
And having drank brandy, he prayed to a charm, 

''We thank thee, oh Father of mercies," he cried, 

That thy son for this poor old black nigger hath died, 
And though we must burn him, because he hath stole 

I pray thee have mercy upon his black soul. 
Though he said not these words he thought so in heart. 

For being a prophet I read him in part. 
I saw the intention for which he had come, 

'Twas to get a good dinner and drink down the rum. 

5|S * * 



FRIENDSHIP 

Friendship, what a golden treasure, 

Flowers that never will decay. 
Hours of bliss and days of pleasure 

Oh how soon they've flown away. 

Do not ask me why I sorrow. 

Why my throbbing bosom swells ; 
Well I know you leave tomorrow. 

But I cannot say farewell. 

Shall each hope so fondly cherished. 

Must each pleasure end in pain. 
Are such friendships doomed to perish, 

Tell me we shall meet again. 

^ 5J< >iC 

Ofif-hand sign written for the first firm who took advantage 
of the bankruptcy act — Barnes Brothers, Canton, N. Y. 
Here trade two men whose heads are soft, 
They look like barnes with board all of?. 
They drive their debtors to the bone 
And still refuse to pay their own. 

28 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
Read at the golden wedding of Joseph Arnold of Ohio. 

Dear cousin, I received your card, 

And was so glad you know; 
To find I had your kind regards, 

It caused the tears to flow. 
I was still gladder when I found, 

By looking at the heading 
That fifty years had rolled around 

And brought your Golden Wedding. 

I fain would come and bring my gold 

Upon your wedding day, 
But it's too far, and I'm too old, 

I therefore have to stay. 
Long life to you, and to your bride, 

Though she's grown old, you know, 
But she was lovely and bright eyed, 

Just fifty years ago. 

And I can say the same of you. 

For in your native place. 
Of all the young men that I knew, 

None wore a fairer face. 
I knew your parents and the boys. 

And loved them all, you know. 
And many a visit I've enjoyed, 

Say fifty years ago. 

Their hair, that now is turning gray. 

Will soon be white as snow — 
The brown hair'd boy with which I play'd 

Some fifty years ago. 
But 'ere another fifty pass 

Into time's boundless sea. 
We shall have withered like the grass, 

So frail we mortals be. 

But there's a home above the stars, 

29 



Where we shall meet again, 
Where free from pain and grief and care 

We ever shall remain. 
Farewell, dear cousin, to your wife 

I bid a kind adieu. 
May both inherit endless Ufe 

And dwell where Angels do. 

^ ^ ^ 

DEATH OF ARABELLA BARTLETT 

Is she gone in one short hour, 

From her blooming youthful band ? 
Has she faded Hke a flower. 

By the touch of death's cold hand ? 
Yes in death Arabella sleeping 

Lies before us in her shroud; 
Hearts are aching; eyes are weeping; 

Grief pervades the mingled crowd. 

She who dress'd herself so neatly; 

Wore a smile upon her brow. 
She who sang on earth so sweetly. 

Sings in Heaven with angels now. 
Sadly from her home she started 

And a tear was in her eye. 
Said dear ma before they parted, 

Let me kiss you a goodbye. 

Wave'd adieu to her and others, 

Knowing that she could not stay; 
Cast a look upon her brothers. 

And was quickly on her way. 
She who thought of her so often. 

Yearned as only mothers yearn. 
Little thought that in the cofhn 

Arabella would return. 

Leaning on her coffin sadly, 
Tortured by a grief so keen. 



80 



We would gladly, yes most gladly 
Draw a veil upon the scene. 

Though dear parents she has left you, 
Landed on the other shore, 

Cruel death has now bereft you 
And her face you'll see no more. 

But we have one hope to cheer us, 

Though entombed her body lies. 
Though she's gone, she still is near us, 

We shall meet her in the skies. 
Since to please and never grieve you, 

She exerted all her powers, 
Call'd by death so young to leave you. 

Strew her coffin over with flowers. 



* * * 

The district Attorney Thomas V. Russell banteringly said, 
hfe too, was a poet. I'll tell you how much of a poet you are 
said the poet. 

As I rode proud Pegasus from hill top to plain 
And urged him first to and then from, 

He grew suddenly sick ; he gave a small strain 
And vomited up little Tom. 

sk * * 

Meeting his friend Jackson in the road one day with a 
splendid horse he said. 

With his arch neck and eagle eye 

He darts along the plain. 
And passing other horses by 

He shakes his flowing mane. 
If beauty, speed and strength you prize, 

You'll not be at a loss 
For all these qualities you'll find - 

In Jackson's splendid horse. - 



He was introduced to two ladies sitting on a plank on the 
green as the Pierrepont poet ; they ask him to make a verse for 
them, he said: 

Here sit two ladies on one plank, 

One sleeps with the man that owns the bank, 
He stands at his counter and deals out his bills 
While his beautiful wife with joy his life fills ; 

And they tell me the other one sleeps with the man 
Who is agent for Pierrepont and sells us our land, 

'Tis said that a ^Partridge can never be tamed 
But Foster has done it and who is to blame? 

"^Her maiden name was Partridge. 



Here lies old Babbitt as snug as a rabbit, 

Who let the old poet his job 
Now the Devil's come and took him. 

In hell he will cook him 
Because the old poet he rob'd. 

* * ^ 

THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSB: IN POTSDAM 

Our school house made of basswood logs 

That first were split in two, 
And then our fathers worked like dogs 

To notch and lay them true. 

And then they put the chinkings in. 

To stop the wind away. 
And where a little crack was left 

They filled it up with clay. 

The panes of glass, just seven by nine, 

Give us a little light, 
The answers to our sums to find, 

And learn to read and write. 



32 




Famous Buck of Cranberry Lake — Poem on page 12 



Around the shanty hung our rags, 

Upon a row of pegs ; 
Our seats were made of basswood slabs^ 

Stood pretty high on legs. 

Our schoolma'am with a queenly air, 

And ruler in her hand, 
Put out the words all plain and fair 

That we might understand. 

I loved her with a boyish love. 

She was so good and kind; . 
She was as gentle as a dove. 

But still she made us mind. 

But now long years have passed away, 

•In yonder grave she lies. 
And he w^ho taugh us many a day 

Like her has closed his eyes. 

Fond memory lingers 'round the past ; 

Now gone, forever gone; 
When once I played upon the grass 

With Oney, Frank and John. 

But Oney now lies in his grave, 

And John lies by his side, 
While Frank, the noble and the brave, 

Sleeps close by where he died. 

And cousin Sally, small and slim, 

Lies sleeping with the dead, 
And Ephriam Brush, killed by a limb 

That struck him on the head. 

The Daytons, with their starlwart arms. 

Soon laid the forests low. 
And soon cleared up their splendid farms. 

Which they did plant and sow. 

And there was Uncle Ike and Abe, 



And there was uncle Ben, 
And uncle Henry, Lige and Jabe 
All middle aged men. 

And there was Rube and Chrit and Bill, 

And Than and Ansel too, 
And all of them worked with a will 

And had enough to do. 

'Twas then we used the old hog plow. 

And Call would lay the shears ; 
But we have steel and iron now, 

And have had them for years. 

We used the scythe and sickle too, 

To get our grain and hay, 
Now reapers, mowers, horse rakes do 

Ten times as much each day. 

There was John Delance and old JohnFobes, 

And Pierres too his son, 
Now all wear shrouds instead of robes — 

Their races all are run. 

And there was French and Ai Powers, 
And Sackett, Harris, Deweys too. 

And there was Warren Clark who towers, 
Above all in the row. 

Not one of all this row is left. 

To tell the mournful tale. 
Of all they had on earth bereft 

They sleep deep in the vale. 

And there was cousin Solomon, 

To work he bared his arm ; 
I loved him well, he's dead and gone, 

And Thomas owns the farm. 

And now alone of all this band. 
That to the training went, 

34 



I'm left upon this earthly strand — 
My steps are slow, my form is bent. 

And when a few more suns shall rise 
And sink down in the west, 

My soul will soar up to the skies — 
My body in the grave shall rest. 



WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF MALINDA HOSLEY 

I am wasting- away, I am wasting away; 

How short is my life, how transient my stay; 
I am hasting away from this beautiful earth. 

From the home of my friends and the land of my birth. 

Adieu, ye fine forests that wave in the blast, 

Ye orchards w^hose fruits were so sweet to my taste. 

Adieu ye green meadows so smiling and gay. 
From your beautiful scenes I am passing away. 

Adieu my dear father and mother likewise ; 

My Savior now calls me, come home to the skies ; 
Weep not for Malinda she'll soon be at rest 

In the mansions above in the home of the blest. 

Adieu my Alvinzi, a final adieu, 

It grieves me so soon to be parted from you. 
The cords of affection my kindred entwine, 

But my heart while it beats my Alvinzi is thine. 

I have left you my ring as a token of love ; 

And my Bible that points to the regions above — 
Then weep not Alvinzi or dare to complain. 

In those regions of bliss I shall meet you again. 

Thy mother, Alvinzi, has stood by my bed. 

Bathed my burning temples and raised up my head, 

I know that you love her ; I cannot mistake. 
But love her I pray thee still more for my sake. 



Adieu my dear brothers, 'tis mournfully true, 
I am wasting away and must bid you adieu. 

Adieu, my dear sisters, I haste from this shore, 
Be kind to your mother when I am no more. 

Adieu young- companions, weep not for my doom, 
Though my mortal remains be consigned to the tomb, 

My spirit will soar to the mansions above 
To gaze on my Savior and sing of His lov(.. 

Adieu, friends and neighbors and all I have known, 
Oh do not forget me when once I am gone. 

But while with the dust my mortality blends. 

May my memory remain in the hearts of my friends. 



CLARKSON'S FARM 

To those who information lack 

We once for all would say, 
That Racket dam flowed gently back. 

Thus forming Clarkson's Bay. 

And now this very curious man. 

Of new improvements fond. 
Drew stone and muck and marl and sand. 

And thus cut off the pond. 

Where flags and alders only grew. 
And sand and bogs were seen. 

Tame grasses now spring up to view. 
And clover fresh and green. 

Thus the great master of his art. 

But waved his magic wand, 
The land and water quickly part. 

And formed this fairy land. 

Where old pine trees and hemlock tops 
Lay scattered all around, 



36 



Now herds of cattle gently feed, 
And wheat and corn abound. 

And where the land for want of strength 
White beans would hardly grow, 

Now carrots full three feet in length, 
We any day can show. 

If at his stables you will call, 

You any day can see, 
Great oxen standing in the stall, 

As fat as they can be. 

Great bins of wheat and cribs of corn. 

And nice machines withal, 
To thrash the grain and grind the meal, 

To feed them in the stall. 

And here upon a rising hill, 

His splendid mansion stands 
And all contrived with taste and skill 

By this same curious man. 

While just in rear his garden lies, 
Beds, fruits and flowers so gay; 

That they would dazzle poets eyes. 
If they were turned that way. 

While just in front a row of firs. 
Clothed in the liveliest green. 

And then a splendid row of elms, 
Give beauty to the scene. 

And then a pretty grove of beech. 

Mixed up with other kinds, 
Pruned higher than a man can reach 

And show a taste refined. 

A little farther on is seen, 

A village and its spires. 
While Racket River flows between. 



87 



Which every one admires. 

While fields and orchards here and there, 

In all directions lie, 
And barns and houses evr'y where, 

Meet the beholders eye. 

While in the distance mountain peaks, 

And vales that lie between, 
Where nature play'd her wildest freaks. 

Are all distinctly seen. 

Great forests mixed with evergreen. 
That Byron's eye would charm.. 

Add beauty, and may all be seen, 
From Clarkson's splendid farm. 

The worst of lands he has reclaimed. 

And taken ofif the curse. 
And you and I could do the same 

If we but had his purse. 



♦ * >k 

FAREWELL TO BROTHER MASON 

Well beloved, dearest brother. 

Of our social band, 
Call'd by death like evrV other, 

To that spirit land. 

Thou didst join and never leave us. 

Mortal of the dust; 
And thou never did deceive us, 

Failthful to thy trust. 

Oft we've met in sweet communion. 

And we priz'd thee high ; 
Joined to us in closest union. 

By the mystic tie. 



38 



Thou hast left us all in sorrow; 

Soaring like the dove ; 
But there comes a glorious morrow, 

In that lodge above. 

By the level, square and plumet. 

Thou wert fashioned here ; 
Fitted for the glorious temple, 

In that brighter sphere. 

May we follow thy example. 

Honest, virtuous, true. 
May we live as good Free Masons, 

And be honor'd too. 

Farewell then, farewell forever, 

To thy memory blest, 
And we will forget thee never. 

Rest our brother, rest. 

* ♦ ^ 

ODE TO THE DAISY 

Like Burns, alas, poor little flower, 

I've met thee in an evil hour; 
When thou wert in full bloom. 

The rough plow share has o'er thee pass'd^ 
And turned thee like the common grass, 

I can but mourn thy doom. 

x\nd since I'm forced to hold the plough, 

And turn thee under anyhow, 
And live by sweat and toil. 

Why should I mourn the Daisy's fate ? 
Death's plough will turn me soon or late. 

And mix me with the soil. 

There till long ages roll away. 

Like common dust my form will lay, 
Unconscious of the past, 



39 



Till he who spoke the world from naught. 
My imortality that bought, 
Calls me to life at last. 

And I assume an angel's form, 

This rigid heart again be warm, 
On pinions I shall soar 

To that blest world of life and Hght 
Where I shall praise Him day and night. 

And man shall die no more. 

^ ^ ^ 

THE BREECHES GIRL 

A young lady in Ogdensburg wrote a fine piece of poetry 
on drinking wine. O. S. Crary answered it with one on tight 
lacmg and closed with the following verse. 

Shun tight lacing when it will preserve your life, 

For when I come of age my girl I want you for a wife. 

And signed it "Farmer's Boy." 
Her lover took offence and unknown to the lady had the 
following published. 

To the father of the farmer's boy : 

Farmer, whip that boy nor heed his whine. 

Nor longer let him toy the idiot of the nine 
Teach him to lay the rail, teach him to guide the plow. 

Teach him, to fling the busy flail or milk the peaceful cow, 
Send him to school for he is ignorant, very, 

And after Cobb and Walker perhaps that he may marry. 

Signed A Lady. 
Supposing it was the lady he sent the following: 

Dear lady, how cruel you were. 

To send such a message to dad. 
Had you heard him rip, sputter and tear, 

I vow you'd have own'd 'twas too bad. 
Did you know this young lady had seen 

A young officer dress'd in his pride 

40 



In paraphernalia so keen, 

That she long'd to appear as his bride. 

If ever again you're so rude 

As to meddle in such an affair — 
On officer's rights to intrude, 

I'll pull out every lock of your hair. 
Come urchin, with me to the barn, 

I'll learn you to cut such a dash. 
And now my dear girl I'll be darn'd 

If my back didn't smoke with the lash. 

And mother she sputtered and storm'd. 

And said that my dad had done right. 
Little dog you deserved to be warm'd 

Till you learn to behave more polite. 
Now I felt in this hour of distress 

That I'd lost all the friends that I had 
And all this has come you may guess 

Because that you told it to dad. 

I would tell you with pleasure and pride 

Of the many good things that I had 
Safely laid up in store for my bride. 

But I fear you would tell it to dad. 
Now if this should get to his ear, 

I should stand in great dread of his ire, 
And my heart it would tremble with fear 

For a burnt child, you know, dreads the fire. 

And now I will bid you good by. 

Though my heart it is lonely and sad. 

For of love I'm afraid I shall die 

But for Jove's sake don't tell it to dad. 



The editor did not publish the above but wrote Mr. Crary 
that the girl objected to its being published as she had not writ- 
tien the piece signed ''Lady," but that it was a man of straw 
who talk'd Locofocoism, who wrote it. Then Mr. Crary sent 
back these lines which were published. 

41 



TO THE BREECHES MAID 

Now when a lady's clothes you wear, 

And think your swarthy skin is fair, 
Don't let the vScripture be forgot. 

The leopard cannot change his spots. 
And when you twit of laying rails, 

Of guiding plows and flinging flails. 
Remember this you Breeches Maid, 

We farmers don't deny the trade. 

And when you talk of tending schools, 

Of spelling books and readers too, 
I'll let you know you silly fool, 

I've seen such books as well as you. 
When you again a hunting go. 

To chase the buck or bounding roe. 
Be careful sir, how, where, and when, 

You beard a panther in his den. 

And when you march with sword and shield 

To meet young David in the field. 
Then don't despise his sling and stones 

For these perchance may break your bones, 
I've known of weapons full as dull, 

That broke a fool Goliath's skull. 
And gave his carcass to the fowls. 

To gloat the bitterns and the owls. 

If I were you I wouldn't stay, 

I'd cut my throat or run away. 
Or hang myself in some old barn, 

Upon a rotten skein of yarn. 
Or else I'd cut that other prank, 

And like the swine rush down the bank — 
And choke that Devil in the sea, 

Which had so long bedevil'd me. 



42 



WHAT IS THE OLD MAN THINKING AS HE LEANS 
ON HIS OLD OAKEN STAFF ? 

He is thinking of the days of his choldhood; 

When he danced in the height of his glee, 
Or play'd 'neath the oak in the wildwood ; 

Or sat on a fond mother's knee ; 

Of the girl that he loved in his boyhood, 

Whose feet were as light as the roe ; 
As she tripped by his side through the meadow, 

And he thought her an angel you know : 

Of the day when she first as a mother, 

On him did his first born bestow^ 
When he thought she excell'd evr'y other : 

Transcending all women below; 

Of the day when his children were scatter'd 

From him like the leaves of a tree. 
And his once stalwart frame became shatter'd — 

Till he needed the staff that you see. 

And last best of all he is thinking, 

When life's dreary drama shall close : 
When sinking and sinking, 

He'll sink to his final repose. 



PIERREPONT AS IT WAS AND IS 

I knew when not a tree was cut 

Upon the Pierrepont hills ; 
When not a sheep or a cow was seen . 

By all her rippling rills : 
When bears and wolves and panthers prowled 

Through all her shady glens ; 
And I could hear their distant howls, 

And chased them to their dens. 



43 



When Indians, in their light canoes, 

Came ghding up our streams 
To hunt the deer or chase the moose, 

But yesterday it seems. 
But I have seen her forests fall; 

The Redman pass away. 
And flocks and herds feed by them all, 

While mansions line the way. 

Now^ splendid orchards grace our farms, 

And gardens fill'd with flowers ; 
And waving fields of grain add charms 

To this fine town of ours. 
Houses of learning where the youth 

Improve the golden hours, 
And trained to virtue and to truth. 

Grow up like native flowers. 

Here temperance too unrival'd reigns ; 

No brawls disturb our streets ; 
Here men of God His word proclaim, 

And hundreds fill the seats. 
I've seen a house of worship rise 

With spires that point to heaven, 
W^here prayer and praise ascend the skies 

For all His mercies given. 



BETHELEHEM OF JUDEA 
(Tune Lilly Dale.) 

'Twas a calm, still night and the stars shone bright 

O'er the shepherds of Judea's plain; 
When the bright angel band from the spirit land 

Struck up the joyful strain. 

Chorus : — 
Oh glory to Jesus hosannas sing, 

44 



That with infinite cost, 
The whole world that was lost, 
Are restored to their Eden again. 

Thus the angels sung as in mid-air they hung. 

O'er the shepherds of Judea's plain, 
Till earth caught the sound, that the lost were found, 

And restored to their Eden asrain. 



•-fc)' 



Chorus : — 

Now, where mortal is known, the glad tidings have flown. 
Like sweet music that floats on the breeze, 

O'er fertile lands and barren sands, 
And the islands that sleep in the seas. 

Chorus : — 

Let old and young with heart and tongue. 

Join the chorus that angels repeat, 
Ev'ry being of earth that has heard of His birth, 

With hasannas bow down at His feet. 

Chorus : — 



CHRIST, THE SON OF GOD WHO DIED THAT WE 

MIGHT LIVE 

Ye know His grace, who poor became. 

Who laid his richest honors by. 
That we might heavenly riches gain : 

That we might live who must have died. 

Yes, He was rich ; all heaven was His, 

And angels flew at His commiand; 
But yet He left that world of bHss, 

To come and die for guilty man. 

While birds had nests,, and foxes holes; 

45 



And kings reclined on downy beds, 
He suffered hung-er, thirst and cold, 
And had not where to lay His head. 

And while a suffering life He led. 
He still went on the world to save; 

He ate the scanty bit of bread — 

'Twas all that thankless mortals gave. 

Nor on the cross did He repine, 

But parched with thirst for drink he call'd, 
They gave Him vinegar for wine, 

And mingled it with bitter gall. 

'Twas thus He died that we might live ; 

'Twas thus He bled that we might reign ; 
And dying prayed "Father forgive," 

Nor was that dying pra3^er in vain. 

Oh praise the Lord in loftier strains; 

Where is there love compared to this, 
Who died that wretched man might gain 

A whole Eternity of bliss. 



* ♦ 



WHAT I BELIEVE 

In answer to a letter from one Peleg Richmond, making 
sport of the Bible in jangle rhyme. 

First, I believe that all who live 

Must sleep beneath the grassy sod; 
Their flesh to stern decay will give : 

There's nothing infinite but God. 

By God I mean that great first cause. 

From which all other causes spring: 
Systems and worlds and natures laws. 

And ev'ry living, breathing thing. 

46 



And I believe the sun He made, 

The moon and stars, those fields of light; 
Angels and men of ev'ry grade. 

And made them all exactly right. 

It was that God made you and I, 

My friend, be very sure of that. 
Can fate create the smallest fly, 

Or chance produce a single gnat ? 

No, no, my friend, how can blind chance 
Create a world or make a man ? 

Or make the sun through space advance. 
To light our world and warm the land ? 

And I believe that He inspired 

The men who wrote the Sacred Page, 

Who have so justly been admired 
By pious men of every age ; 

And that those scriptures teach us plain 
That all who read may understand. 

Except a man be born again 
He cannot see that happy land. 

And I believe the stars we see 

Will yet be from their orbits hurled; 

That heaven and earth alike will flee, 

When God shall come to judge the world; 

That sentient beings should prepare 

For that great day when time shall end ; 

That you and I shall both be there, 
And need a Christ to be our friend; 

That those who finally rebel, 

Down to their darkness will be driven, 
To sufifer all the pains of hell, 

And never be by God forgiven. 

You asked me friend what I believed, 

47 



And I have tried to tell you plain, 
Now when this letter you receive, 
Please drop an answer back again. 



BARBARA HECK 

I saw a ship a sailing ; six sailors were on deck ; 
Their courage never failing, 'twas steered by Barbara Heck ; 
Their colors were nailed to the mast, as on they quickly sped; 
And will be long as time shall last though Barbara Heck is dead. 

But still her fame will never die till earth will cease to roll ; 
But spreading wide and raising high will spread from pole to 

pole. 
Her preachers flaming heralds are passing through our land, 
Not fearing man nor devil they boldly take their stand. 

For Jesus Christ is with them, go when and where they will ; 
And like the wild tornado they shake the forest still. 
And satan always trembles where e'er her heralds go, 
When christian bands assemble, it frightens him you know. 

Their motto ever moving ; to dally they've no time ; 
Their doctrine ever proving, in every land and clime. 
Ye heralds of the gospel, still hasten on your way; 
Till ev'ry land and nation shall see the joyful day. 

And o'er the wide creation, her waving banners spread, 
And millions take their station, though Barbara Heck is dead. 
And when the judgment day shall come a glorious crown she'll 

wear, 
Among the millions in that home, a bright and shining star. 

Would you be happy here below, and reign above the skies ; 
Follow the path that she did go, and you will win the prize. 
Eternal bliss be your reward, when you shall reach that shore, 
Where all the saints with one accord the mighty God adore. 

48 



ON THE DEATH OF ELDER BOWLES 

Come all my friends, both far and near, 

Who loved the man who sought your souls ; 

Come drop the sympathizing tear, 

And weep with me for Father Bowles. 

For days, and weeks, and months, and years, 

He plead with sinners to repent; 
While every prayer was wet with tear; 

And every sermon as he went. 

From town to town, from state to state. 
He still kept up the constant cry, 

"Repent, repent e'er 'tis to late, 

Prepare my friends, prepare to die." 

He preached with power and always plain, 
That made the cold professors quake : 

He never preached for filthy gain. 
But for the dying sinners sake. 

His sight, alas, at length grew dim; 

His voice grew husky too and dry. 
He had a son; he sent for him. 

To come and see his father die. 

The aged patriarch called his son, 
And took his CharUe by the hand; 

''Your father's race is almost run, 
And he is near the spirit land. 

' But Charles when father is no more ; 

When in the grave his ashes lie. 
Tell others that they may adore; 

That father wan't afraid to die. 

"Bright angels are from glory come, 
And hover 'round my dying bed, 

To take me to my blessed home,- 

As; soon, as ever I am dead." ■ ■ . ' 



49 



Thus died this holy man of God; 

Thus cahn he sunk into his rest, 
And though he Hes beneath the clod, 

No doubt he sings among the blest. 

A faith like his gold cannot buy. 

Nor all the wealth beneath the poles ; 

If in such triumph you would die, 
Then vou must live like Father Bowles. 



THE SONS OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS 

Sons of the Pilgram Fathers who left their native land ; 
Unfurl'd their snow white banner on Plymouth's rocky strand. 
Who fled from dire oppression ; a cruel tyrant's frown ; 
And here they took possession where savage men were found. 

Who chose to brave the dangers, to cross the briny wave, 
Among a land of strangers to find an early grave, 
Than basely crouch to tyrants who sought to chain them down, 
Or yield to bold aspirants, the panders of a crown. 

Peace to their sleeping ashes ; in silence they recline, 
Near where Atlantic dashes her wave of foaming brine. 
Though by their king unpitied, forsaken and forlorn. 
Their spirits they transmitted to nations vet unborn, 

; 

And now the same devotion that warmed the Pilgrims breast, 
Has spread o'er land and ocean, the race of man to bless. 
And now throughout the nations, the leaven has spread and met 
On missionary stations the sun no longer sets. 



DEATH OF LUCY MAY 

Indulgent reader, hear what I relate. 

And drop a silent tear o'er Lucy's fate. 
She's gone to be no more upon this earthly shore, 

50 



Her Savior to adore in realms of day. 

But just the year that's passed, her friends beheld 
This blooming lovely lass, sprightly and well ; 

Then who can read her doom and not be fill'd with gloam ; 
Within the silent tomb she now is laid. 

No more will she behold the things of earth ; 

Its riches and its gold are of no worth ; 
A scepter now she bears, a crown of glory wears ; 

Bright, shining as the stars that will not fade. 

No more will sickness blast her youthful bloom ; 

Her mind be overcast with sullen gloom ; 
But on that blissful shore, where saints their God adore, 

She'll bloom to fade no more through endless years. 

Oh, proud and cruel death ; terrific king. 

Though you have stop'd her breath, where is thy sting ? 
You've but released a soul that walks in streets of gold. 

And sings in strains untold through heaven's high dome. 

Her mother went before, to point the way 
Up to that blissful shore of brighter day; 

'Tis in those heavenly streets her mother there she meets, 
And sings in anthems sweet to part no more. 

But let us change the strain, while Lucy sleeps ; 

'Tis o'er her cold remains a husband weeps ; 
He cries, "My Lucy dear," and drops the silent tear, 

''No one my heart will cheer since you're no more." 

But why should I repine, she's now at rest ; 

No trouble haunts her mind, or moves her breast; 
'Tis on that blissful shore, where saints their God adore ; 

We'll meet to part no more, while ages roll. 



51 



THE HEAVENLY RAILROAD 

There is a road froni earth to heaven ; 

God's railroad, if we so may speak ; 
To man a revelation given 

And all may find this road that seek. 

The engine is the means of grace ; 

The cars Jehovah's church on earth ; 
And all who wish can have a place ; 

The tickets are the second birth ; 

The Saviour is the Engineer ; 

He laid the track and paved the way ; 
Though demons howl, the track is clear, 

And runs straight through to realms of day. 

There's not a curve in all the line, 
Nor one dark tunnel on the road ; 

God's truth eternal ever shines, 
To light man to that blest abode. 

Prayer is the coal and faith the fire ; 

Devotion blows it to a flame. 
The moving power is pure desire 

To glorify the Saviour's name. 

Then you who come upon this line. 
Must help propel the heavenly cars. 

And then in glory you will shine. 
And gaze upon the Saviour's scars. 

The gospel is the whistle shrill, 

And sudden death the ringing bell ; 

Then come on board with free, good will. 
And shout in death that all is well. 

All hail, the mighty Engineer, 

There is no engineer like this. 
He heals our woes, and calms our fears, 

And take us to a world of bhss. 



62 



ON FROTHINGHAM, THE INFIDEL 

Let Frothingham froth on and rave, 
And play the mad man and the fool, 

And scout the power of Christ to save ; 
Of infidels a fitting tool. 

Yes, let them talk of dying gods. 
Blasphemous wretches, that they are ; 

At death they'll find the fearful odds, 
And wail forever in dispair. 

ilien let Tom Paine, and all his hosts. 
Of infidels that wise would seem, 

Deny there is a Holy Ghost, 

Let them beware how they blaspheme. 

Let infidels all understand. 

However strange the truth may seem, 
If Christ ain't God, as well as man. 

Their hope of heaven is all a dream — 

A dream of dreams, a phantom fled; 

A mere delusion of the brain ; 
They'll find a world of woe instead. 

Where death eternal ever reigns. 

A night of nights, where not one ray 
Will ever light the dismal gloom ; 

And endless night without a day. 
Will be the Christ rejector's doom. 

Oh sinner, would you shun this fate : 
Would you escape this dreadful doom ? 

Seek Him before it is too late. 

Who like a God rose from the tomb. 

* * * 

DEDICATION HYMN 
Almighty God, whose eye of flame 
Sees at a glance our inmost souls. 



53 



Fain would we mag-nify thy name, 

And spread thy praise from pole to pole, 

The heaven of heavens cannot contain, 
The mighty God, the power divine. 

But have we built this house in vain ; 
Great God upon thy temple shine, 

We dedicate this sacred desk, 

This altar and those seats to thee. 

Is it too much, Oh God, to ask 
That thousands may converted be? 

Oh, bless the choir thou king of kings. 
And while in hymns they chant thy praise, 

Inspire their voices while they sing; 

And fill their hearts with heavenly grace. 

Oh, may thy sanctifying power. 

This house with thine own glory fill, 

Thy grace upon thy people shower, 
As rain upon the grass distills. 

When here thy servants spread their hands. 
And praying toward thy holy hill, 

Heal all the plague through all our land. 
And be our God and Saviour still, 

And when our day of life is past. 

Oh father, son and holy Dove, 
Receive us to thy house at last ; 

A house not made with hands, above. 

Ht H: =H 

ADIEU TO THE GROVE 

(Written for a Southern Lady.) 

Adieu trembling aspens ; ye poplars adieu. 

Ye sweet mantling vines ; ye magnolias farewell, 

54 



Ye oaks and ye elms while I haste from your view, 
My bosom with warmest emotions must swell. 

Must swell while I think on your green waying shade, 
Where in sweet meditation the hours passed away; 

Where I've sat; where I've sang, where I've knelt, where 
I've pray'd, 
And shouted amen while the lark tuned the lay. 

Sweet converse with Jesus I've held in your bowers, 
Or sang in sweet raptures the joys of his love, 

Whose goodness I view in each tree, plant and flower, 
That grows in the forest and blooms in the grove. 

Yes, God and the angels have witnessed my cry. 

For santification a heart all resigned 
And while I have thus rais'd my thoughts to the sky. 

Thy foliage seemed tinged with His glory divine. 

I have seen your tops wave in the cold winter's blast, 
When your beautiful leaves had been nipped by the frost, 

I have seen you in bloom when the winter was past, 
With leaves still more splendid than those you had lost. 

'Tis thus that the saints will arise from the tomb. 

When death's long cold winter shall pass and be o'er, 

All glorious, immortal in fresh youthful bloom ; 
To sisfh and to sorrow and sufifer no more. 



^fe' 



But now I must leave you, and hasten away. 

From friends and connections I also must part. 

For providence calls me and I must obey; 

I sigh but no murmur escapes from my heart. 

Adieu leafy temple; a final adieu; 

I shall sit, kneel and pray 'neath your covert no more, 
But while I retire to a place that is new. 

The God I have worshipped, I still will adore. 



55 



MY OLD HAT 

Here's my old hat, and what of that- 
It once was new and shining, 

What could entice the cussed lice 
To eat out all the lining ? 



ROPE STAIRS TO PRAYERS 

WhiTe attending school at the old academy in Potsdam he 
rung the bell one morning during prayer, a rat came down the 
bell rope, which made the children laugh. The teacher, sup- 
posing the poet had done something to make them laugh called 
him up to give an account of what he had been doing and he 
says, 

A rat, for want of better stairs, 

Came down the rope to go to prayers. 

Hi ^ ^ 

ORVIL PAGE 

When God got through creating man, 

The devil in a horrid rage, 
Just seized the scrapings in his hand, 

And worked them into Orvil Page. 

* * * 

GREELEY AND GRANT 

When Greeley ran against Grant for president, the poet 
was asked which would be elected. He reeled ofif the follow- 



The Greeley ship sir is no good, 
For it is made of rotten wood. 
And it can never stand the blast, 



56 



For it is only pegged with brass. 

Grant's ship is of the purest gold 

From stem to stern, both deck and hold, 

With ivory masts and sails of silk, 
And colors pure and white as milk. 

* * * 

When Taft ran against Wilson his son penned the follow- 
ing lines : 

Grant's ship is now consigned to Taft, 

And he w411 wreck it fore and aft ; 
An awful racket he will give her, 

And with the hulk go up Salt River. 



POTSDAM AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS NOW 

My father moved into this town 

When I was two^, I'm told; 
Now seventy years have roU'd 'round. 

And I am growing old ; 
Two houses then our village graced, 

And now I scarcely know the place ; 
Where once these houses stood. 

Now stores and shops and banks and inns — ' 
And sidewalks, paved with stone. 

The old academy so thin, 
A Normal School has grown. 

Then uncle Stone our grist would grind. 
But took near half a day; 

But now they go it fairly blind 
And hurry us away. 

Then Thompson backed the bags of mail 
From Potsdam to Malone^ 

Now lightning trains darts o'er the rail. 
And Thompsons are unknown. 

Then news from England twelve long weeks 

57 



To come by ship required, 

Now news, if we the truth may speak, 
Comes darting on the wires. 

'Twas then we used the old hog plow, 
And Call would lay the shears, 

But we use steel and iron now 
And have done so for years. 

'Twas then we used the scythe and rake, 
To gather in our hay; 

Now nice machines and patent rakes, 
Makes haying seem like play. 

'Twas then we used the sled and cart, 
Nice wagons were unknown. 

But we are growing rather smart, 
Nice teams and wagons own. 

'Twas then we owned a single cow. 
Perhaps a dozen sheep, 

But we milk splendid dairies now, 
Fat hogs and horses keep. 

'Twas then we used the old dash churn, 
A little butter made ; 

To have our factories we have learned, 
And drive a thrifty trade. 

Then weary teams drew heavy loads 
Through the deep mud and snow. 

But now long trains dart o'er our roads. 
While loud the whistles blow. 

The hre place and the old log house. 
Have now gone out of date. 

And splendid mansions, parlor stoves. 
And coal within the grate. 

Nice trees and shrubs now fill our yards, 
And flowers of richest hue, 

And picket fences stand as guard. 
That nothing can get through. 

'Twas then upon a panel door a day's work was bestow'd. 
While now George Swan drives business on 

And sells them by the load. 



58 



THE AMERICAN EAGLE 
Written i860. 

(Air Star Spangled Banner.) 

Oh hear ye his scream as he flaps his bright wings, 
And mounts to the sun leaving woodland and ocean, 

Ah who in creation his equal can bring, 
So strong in talons, so swift in his motion. 

Chorus : — 

Then woe to the vulture, his anger that draws. 
And w^oe to the bird that shall get in his claws. 

For our banner shall wave and our Eagle shall soar, 
O'er the North and the South till our nation's no more, 

His form may be seen mid the Red, White and Blue, 

Epluribus unum, you see he is holding ; 
With hearts ever warm, patriotic and true, 

We'll shout as we see our banner unfolding. 

At the foes of our country defiance we'll hurl, 
Our flag it shall float o'er the land and the ocean. 

We'll show to the South and show to the world 

Of that thing call'd secession we've not the last notion, 

All hail to our country, she long will remain. 

The sails of all nations shall whiten our waters, 

From mountain to valley, from hill top to plain. 

The shout shall go up from her sons and her daughters. 

Oh God of our fathers, who fought for the right. 

Who see's at a glance through the whole of creation, 

Oh be with out men through the perilous fight. 
Stand by and defend us, give peace to our nation. 

And thy name we'll adore on the sea and the shore. 
And tell of thy wonders till time is no more. 

May our Eagle yet soar and our banner yet wave. 
While treason and traitors are laid in one grave. 

59 



THE DAY OF JUDGMENT 

'Twas night, 'twas dark and all was still, 
O'er river, mountain, vale and hill; 

Save ocean's constant roar. 
I saw the angel Gabriel stand 

Upon the sea and on the land — 
The water and the shore. 

There was a pause, and all was still ; 

The sea was silent as the hill 
That stood upon the shore. 

From unknown worlds the fiat came, 
"Blow, Gabriel, blow, and loud proclaim 

That time shall be no more." 

He blew the trumpet stern and strong; 

He blew the trumpet loud and long; 
How dreadful was the shock ! 

He blew still louder ; as it passed 
The forest fell before the blast; 

It shook the tirmest rock — 

Dark threatening clouds bespread the sky; 

The wind roared loud ; the sea ran high ; 
Which gave confusion birth. 

I heard the earthquake's horrid sound, 
That leveled cities with the ground, 

And shook the trembling earth. 

The groaning earth burst out in flame, 
And melted lava made the plain 

One sea of liquid fire. 

The mountains melting down like snow 

Commingled with the plain below. 
And raised the sea the higher. 

I saw the dead both small and great; 

The king, the prince, the potentate, 
All hastening to the bar ; 

While groans and shrieks of wild dispair, 



60 



Burst on my ear and rent the air, 
And seemed to reach the stars. 

I saw the wretch who reached and took 
With impious hand Gods Holy Book, 

And preached for sake of gain ; 

I saw the blood start from his eyes, 

He uttered forth unearthly cries. 
And gnawed his tongue for pain. 

He seem'd to dread to join the throng, 
And wailing slowly passed along, 

Like some poor wandering star ; 

But one more blast from Gabriel's horn. 

Blew him like chaf¥ before the storm, 
And chased him to the bar. 

I saw the fiend start from his grave, 
That starved and beat and sold his slave, 

All for the sake of gain. 

The moment he unclosed his eyes, 

''Fall on me rocks and hills," he cries; 
But still he cries in vain. 

I saw the rocks and mountains fly, 

He uttered forth a shriller cry. 
And wrung his bloody hands. 

His slaves appeared before his eyes, 
He gave but one more horrid cry. 

And sunk amone the damned. 



'& 



The unbeliever too I saw 

Who had transgressed God's holy law 
By crime of every name ; 

Who thought because, that Christ had died. 
Although he swore and curst and lied 

'Twould all be just the same. 

"Alas," he cried, "T find too well 
There is an awful burning hell ; 
An awful firey sea ; 

61 



That darkness death and wan dispair 
Reigns in eternal silence there, 
To all eternity." 

I saw the sinner old and gray 

Who heard God's word from day to day, 
And knew his duty well ; 

But still to sin, he set his face. 
Neglecting every means of grace, 

As if there was no hell. 

"Alas," he cried, "I justly am , 

Condemned to wail among the damned, 

And spend long years of pain 

Without one hope my soul to cheer — 

Shall pass along through endless years. 
And clanking my burning chains." 

The doubting atheist too was there, 

A while he gazed as if dispair 
Had fixed his glaring eye ; 

"Oh, had I lived," at length he cried, 
"For him who groaned and bled and died, 

I now had reigned on high ; 

"But I denied there was a God, 

Although I felt his chastening rod. 

And trembled with afright ; 
But now alas it is too late. 

Eternal death is now my fate. 
And one unending night." 

"Depart, depart," the God man cries, 

"Depart, depart," rang through the skies ; 

The pause was short between. 

Down, down I saw the wretches slide. 

And plunge beneath the burning tide — 
Thus closed the final scene. 



62 



PART II. 

POETICAL WORKS 

OF 

GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 




George Lucian Crary 



POETICAL WORKS 

OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 



DESCRIPTION OF THE CRARY FAMILY 

Our forefathers from Scotland come, 

To the new world to make a home ; 
In sixteen hundred they came here, 

In search of liberty so dear : 
From William Wallace line descended, 

And with him Scotland they defended. 
But when he fell they had to flee. 

And seek a home over the sea. 

'Twas then 'tis said they dropped the "Mc," 

For fear of being carried back, 
For fighting in his noble clan, 

For freedom and their native land. 
And when the bugle sounded shrill, 

For volunteers the ranks to fill 
My grandfather though but fifteen 

Among the soldier boys was seen. 

And stayed until the war was through, 

And helped to gain our freedom too. 
In eighteen twelve. Redcoats once more 

Came flocking to the Yankee shore : 
Four uncles then with knapsacks on 

March'd to the front with sword and gun, 
And helped to make the Redcoats flee, 

From Plattsburgh back to Canada. 

For they imagined that they see 
A Yank behind each stump and tree ; 

And heard them shouting ev'ry one, 

''You've got too far from Canada ; run boys run." 

And since that time they've been too shrewd 

65 



On Yankee freedom to intrude. 
Our eagle sits on freedom's bough, 
The Hon keeps his own den now. 

When war broke out w4th Mexico, 

Then cousin Nate was bound to go, 
And though his wish his folks resisted. 

He ran away and just enhsted. 
Though he was but sixteen years old, 

He stood six feet and two I'm told. 
Though sixteen battles he went through, 

Without a wound he came back too. 

And when the cruel war broke out, 

Between the South and North, 
And our dear Union was in doubt, 

'Twas then the Crary boys stepped forth, 
And put the bluecoats on all right, 

And went down south the Rebs to fight ; 
They fought on many a bloody field, 

And forced the Rebs at last to yield. 

Now it mpy seem a curious fact. 

Yet every Crary boy came back, 
Yes, they came home with colors flying, 

From fields oft strew'd with dead and dying, 
And though I do not wish to boast, 

In all the. wars with all the hosts, 
The records prove a certain fact, 

Not one was w^ounded in the back. 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 

The following poem was composed and read by George 
L. Crary at the Lincoln Dav exercises of Hartwell T. Martyn 
Post, G. A. R. and the W. R. C 

And now proud Pegasus please give me a ride — - 
With the best of the poets take me along side, 

66 



While I hear the glad strain of the Heavenly lyre 
My poor feeble pen with wisdom inspire, 

Whiie I write of the deeds of our brave, noble dead. 

Who their precious hearts blood for their country have 
shed. 

And our dear martyred President's great proclamation 
Which ended vile slavery by emancipation. 

And the praise of the world he justly deserv'd. 

When he said the union must and shall be preserv'd 
vShould be written in gold and lead in the rock 

Where it can't be erased while time runs a clock. 
'Twas then that his wedges and maul came in play 

For he pounded vile treason with them every day, 
Till their forts and defences in ruins he lay 

And from Richmond their Capitol drove them away. 

In spite of the Tribune and Greeley's advice 

With them to make peace regardless of price. 
To which if he'd listened our Country'd been lost, 

While now it's preserved and is worth all it cost. 
With the old ship of State he encountered a flood 

And steer'd her with firmness throu oceans of blood, 
And not for a moment was he seen to quail 

Even when with defeat our arms were assail'd. 

With wisdom and patience his plans he pursued 

Until the rebellion at last was subdued. 
And all of the States came back into line 

And form'd this great Union of States now so fine ; 
And once more our country was calm and serene 

When a bloody assassin appear'd on the scene. 
And like a sneak thief with pistol and knife 

He crawl'd up behind and took Lincoln's life. 

He jump'd to the stage and made his escape 

And once more our nation with mourning was draped. 

But justice o'ertook the vile despised wretch 
And hemp ropes his bloody associates stretch'd. 

The South with the North regretted the deed. 
And so they at once together agreed 

67 



To bury the hatchet and once more shake hands, 
Now no North ; no South but a united land. 

The day of his birth let us now celebrate 

And his virtues and firmness we will emulate, 

As the champion of justice and freedom and right 
Which he seal'd with his blood on that fatal night, 

And to all our brave heroes for country that bled 
We have cheers for the living and tears for the dead. 

^ ^ ^ 



A PERSONAL DEVIL? 

These lines were suggested to the poet by the question 
being asked in the Bible class, "Is there a Personal Devil?" 

There's a personal Devil and there's no mistake, 

To prove it the story of Job we will take, 
Where it tells us the Devil appeared before God 

And begged that on Job he might lay the rod. 
It tells us he took away all that Job had. 

But he fail'd in all this to get Old Job mad. 
Then he cover'd his body all over with boils. 

After that he escaped from the old Serpent's coils. 

This story is false or else it is true. 

Because it is certainly one of the two. 
A little more evidence now we will draw 

From the Garden of Eden where man broke the law, 
Where the Devil coaxed Eve of the fruit to partake. 

And told her how wise her and Adam would make. 
But they very soon found he had told them a li& 

When God came and told them they surely must die, 

And out of the garden of Eden must go ; 

And their pathway be strewn with sorrow^ and woe, 
Eor thistles and thorns the earth would now grow, 

And back to the dust at the last they must go. 
Now in the new Testament we will seek next, 

Where people with Devils so often were vexed, 

68 



Until our Dear Saviour came into this world, 

When down from his throne Old Satan was hurl'd, 

First into the swine then into the sea. 

Now these are stern facts you all must agree 
And these things are false or else they are true. 

But perhaps there is nothing that will convince you, 
For you can't convince a man when he tries 

To stop up his ears and shut up his eyes, 
For there is more hope for the Devil himself 

Than there is for a wilfully ignorant elf. 

And that there's a hell there isn't a doubt, 

And I fear in the end we shall all find it out, 
When with his last breath poor mortals curse God, 

They are sure to be punished with his chastening rod. 
Then don't let smooth tongues your reason deceive. 

Or you'll surely get punished like Adam and Eve, 
And into that Hell you surely will go 

And dwell with Old Satan in Eternal woe. 



THE BATTLE OF GETTSBURG 

'Twas fifty years ago today 

We met to fight — the Blue and Gray- 
Both sides believed that they were right, 

And to the death they came to fight. 

Each one resolved his foe to kill. 
Although he held him no ill will. 

'Twas for a principle they fought — 

One must succeed — one come to naught. 

Now Cemetery HiU was Blue, 

And Big and Little Round top too. 

In silence there the Army lay 
Awaiting movements of the Gray. 

But now they hear the bugle sound 

69 



And tramp of men that jars the ground 
When Pickett, fifteen thousand strong, 
Towards the hill now swept along. 

And next they hear the cannons' roar 
That echoed back from shore to shore 

Whose horrid contents swept them down 
With dead and dying strew'd the ground. 

But they close up and onward still 

They rushed resolved to take the hill. 

The Boys in Blue withstood the shock 
And held their ground firm as a rock. 

And then poured in a withering fire 
That forced the Gray coats to retire. 

No flesh or courage could withstand 

That shower of lead that swept the land. 

Of fifteen thousand that went in, 

When they got back their ranks were thin. 
A mighty battle had been fought. 

Confederate hopes had come to naught. 

But now we meet — the Blue and Gray — 

In memory of that awful day; 
In friendship clasp each others hands 

And thus reseal the Union Bands. 



CARABAO 

All honor to Wilson and Daniels and Garrison 

Who resented an insult that has no comparison, 
By Generals and Admirals and officers too 

In a great celebration of the Carabao. 
The low and despicable songs that they sung, 

No wonder that Wilson and Bryan felt stung. 
On the Government Policy it threw a slur 

But the Philippine liberty it won't defer, 

70 



For Wilson and Bryan in spite of their song, 

Are determined to right our nation's great wrong; 
For Senator Hoar who calls things right names, 

Says for murder and pillage our nation's to blame, 
For war he says was never declared, the Senate would not 

And McKinley and Hanna found they could not. 
And so many thousands were murdered outright, 

Simply because for their freedom they fight. 

No wonder that fire and floods sweep our land 

And earthquakes and cyclones are seen on each hand. 
For blood of the innocent cries from the ground. 

We've been weighed in the balance and wanting we're 
found — 
That beautiful city from which our troops went 

With earthquakes and fire no man could prevent, 
'Twas wiped off the earth, like a candle snuffed out; 

And why God permitted it there is no doubt. 

And now Billy Taft, you just call a halt 

And with Wilson's policy stop finding fault, 
For you should remember this ship you can't run, 

After making such work and ship-wrecking one — - 
The Republican ship you ran on the rocks. 

And gave the poor thing such horrible shocks, 
That it made her squeek, tremble and shiver, 

And with her at last you went up salt river. 

Now the Democrat ship has run smooth as grease, 

And its friends every day are on the increase. 
Hurrah for the party that advocates peace. 

And declares that the Philippines shall be released 
And then on the breeze as old glory unrolls, 

Not a spot or stain will be seen on her folds. 
Then over the land and over the sea 

To all that's oppressed a refuge she'll be. 



71 



GIVE ME THE FARM LIFE 

There's the baker, the barber and the drygoods vender, 
And grocers and drug stores and the money lender — 

Saloons and hotels that deal out the whiskey, 

which makes all their patrons feel funny and frisky. 

There's the blacksmith, and dentist that puts in our teeth, 
The jeweler, the milliner that sells ribbons and wreaths, 

And doctors and lawyers and jockeys galore. 

And junk and rag dealers at every man's door. 

The printers and ministers I can't leave out, 
For they are something we can't do without. 

But give me the farm with her wide spreading fields, 
The garden and orchard that crimson fruit yields. 

And the herds and the flocks that roam o'er the hills. 
And the life giving springs with their pure bubbling rills. 

And the pure breath of heaven that the farmer inhales. 
While with the purest of milk he fills up his pails. 

Which brings him the dollars and fills up his purse, 
And raises the mortgage with which he was cursed. 
And now the plain truth I do not enlarge. 

If a wayfarer calls he is fed without charge. 

There's a neighborly friendship that always exists 
Among farmers that in city or village you'll miss, 

Where its each for himself and the devil for all, 
And if you fall down you must lay where you fall. 

Unless you've got money to foot a big bill, 

A grave in the Potters Field you're sure to fill. 

Then boys, when you graduate, go to the farm, 
A good store of knowledge will do you no harm. 

It will help you along in each struggle and strife, 

Which you're sure to encounter in a long or short life. 

And then a great joy to your parents you'll give. 
To see you come home to stay while they live, 

72 



THE HISTORY OF MAN 

Oh how weak is poor man when he comes in the world 

He's the weakest of all God's creation, 
As into the whirlpool of time he is hurled, 

To work out his own destination. 

• 

With his small, tiny hand he is trying to grasp, 

And take in the queer situation ; 
He is struggling and tugging to pull off the mask 

Which obscures these strange sights from his vision. 

And though he's so small, he's the noblest of all, 

Of the works of his mighty creator ; 
Who gave him the world before his downfall, 

And all but his own divine nature. 

"Of all of the fruits of the fields you may eat, 

There is only one tree I'll deny, 
And all of the rest to your taste shall be sweet, 

If you taste that you surely will die," 

In the image of God the first man he was made ; 

And his beautiful wife, it is stated. 
Surpassed earthly beings in beauty 'tis said, 

For to Adam she's closely related. 

Though he gave him the world, yet he was not content, 

But after still more he kept grasping, 
To know all there was to be known he was bent. 

Though his punishment be everlasting. 

Now the serpent beguiled them by telling them lies, 
And our dear mother Eve done her share 

For she ate of the fruit and gave Adam likewise. 
And to death .she thus made us her heir. 

It opened their eyes as soon as they ate, 

And they saw that the evil was nigh, 
So they went off and hid well knowing their fate. 

For they knew they must surely die. 

73 



In the evening God came and walked in the shade, 

And when at last they were found, 
"Because we were naked we both were afraid, 

When we heard you step down on the ground." 

All the blame on his wife Adam naturally laid. 
Which through time to all man has come down, 

'"Twas the serpent beguiled me," the woman then said, 
"And told me a he I have found." 

Then Adam, he said, "you surely must die. 

And out of this garden must go" ; 
And to Eve, "Now your sorrows I will multiply, 

And your offspring must share in your woe." 

To the serpent, he said, "You're so vile and so low 
That her offspring shall bruise your vile head. 

And forever more on your belly you'll go. 
Eating dust of the earth for your bread." 

Then God cursed the earth, and blasted her fruits. 

And left it as we find it now, 
And now mortal man he must die like the brutes 

And earn bread by the sweat of his brow. 

And though man has fallen, he's still something grand, 
For the lightening that through the sky whirl'd, 

He has called to his aid, and at his command 
It now flashes the news 'round the world. 

As God through the old prophet *Nahum foretold. 
That the chariots with torches should be. 

So onward like lightening our fast trains now roll 
And the headlight is what Nahum see. 

And though man is small and his days but a span. 
Into all the dark mysteries he's prying, 

He crosses the ocean, goes like lightning on land, 
Sends his message now through the air flying. 

Oh had he obeyed his creator's command, 

74 



What a happy bright world this would be ; 
We should never grow old in this beautiful land, 
And the heaven of heavens we should see. 

Now the dear Son of God in pity look'd down, 

On poor mortals fallen estate. 
And beheld with alarm his dear father's frown. 

And saw that his anger was great. 

He said to His Father, ''my life I will give, 

To wipe out this terrible stain," 
And 'twas thus that he died that poor mortals might live, 

And through Him a heaven might gain. 

Now, you who find fault with Adam and Eve, 

If you read you will find out too well. 
From our forefather's sin by His death we're relieved, 

'Tis our own sins that send us to hell. 

Then let us repent before it's too late, 
And our hearts to the dear Saviour give. 

For if we reject him we seal our own fate, 
And in endless torment we'll live. 

*n chapter of Nahum. 



THE TRAPPERS x\ND HUNTERS OF THE ADIRON- 

DACKS 

In the old hunter's camp you will always feel free, 

Where there's room for one they'll make room for three, 
And their blanket and grub with a stranger divide. 

And make him a bed on a deer or bear hide. 
There was William and Alva and Uncle Mose Leonard 

Who were champion trappers of that cunning reynard, 
To outwit this lad uncle Mose beat them all. 

For forty fine foxes he caught in one fall. 

Four panthers one day he brought down with his gun ; 

75 



In a trap on the mountain that night he caught one ; 
Eight wolves in a day in a hollow log caught, 

And a bounty of forty gold dollars each brought. 
If he wan't a hunter, then there is no fun, 

For forty-two panthers he killed with his gun ; 
And many a bear, he caught in his traps 

And otter and beaver and mink and muskrats. 

And sable and fisher and all kinds of furs. 

And many a wolf, the sheep killing curs ; 
And how many deer, the old fellow caught, 

I can't tell, but sleigh loads to market, he brought. 
There was uncle Fet. Tracy, Ezra Crary and Nash, 

True Crary and Crampton and Church got the cash. 
For they were good marksmen and centered the mark 

And followed the deer from day light till dark. 

There was uncle Jess Irish and Hamilton Nate ; 

Up to the Big Windfall they did emigrate, 
And built them a shanty, way up in the woods. 

And took along with them all their earthly goods. 
And although their shanty was not very large, 

Yet, never a strange by them was discharged. 
But they gave them the very best fare that they could — 

No city hotel could furnish as good. 

And there was one Ensign with his crazy bark. 

Would come down the lake in daylight or dark. 
With only a paddle, the lake he would run, 

When the white caps were jumping and dancing hke fun, 
And there was the Dillons whose heart were so large, 

Who constructed a sawmill and also a forge — 
It was Mrs. Dillon a lost hunter fed, 

Who had stray'd through the forest until nearly dead. 

And there was the Rasbacks who still hunted bears. 
And of other game they got their full shares; 

And there was the Rowlands and also the Towns, 
That hunted the foxes and kept fancy hounds; 

There was Crarys and Dewey and John and Al. Law, 
And Pearsons and Glassby and Johnney Bushaw, 

76 



And there was Walt. Smith, the journey would take, 
And meet with the boys at the foot of the lake. 

When we met at McConnell's to get our bread baked, 

'Twas then lots of comfort we boys used to take. 
W^e told hunting stories and sung hunting songs. 

It was seldom you'd meet with a happier throng. 
There was Uncle Al. Olmstead and Uncle Mike Wright, 

That on the Twin Ponds had chosen a site. 
And they were true hunters as any that live, 

If you call'd, a night's lodging and food they would give. 

It was on the Twin Ponds one very dark night 

Hal. Ives went out floating with Uncle Mike Wright, 
Their boat got capsized and they lost light and gun, 

And they got such a ducking it spoilt all their fun; 
And there was Steve Hathaway on a log watching, 

When 'round just behind him he heard something scratching 
He turned around quickly and what should he see. 

But a couple of bears backing down from a tree. 

He fired and one of the little lads fell, 

It was then he began for his mother to yell ; 
He turn'd and the mother was close to his heels — 

So close that even her breath he could feel. 
He turned and a stick caught his heel and cowhack, 

Down flat on the ground he went on his back ; 
To chew up his feet the old lady tried. 

But he placed his rifle up close to her side, 

And fired, and into the woods she now fled, 

While the ground was cover'd with blood where she bled. 
He must kill her with this or he'd surely be dead, 

For this was the very last charge that he had. 
Up came Uncle Mose and finished the cub. 

And said, "Uncle Steve, you had a tight rub." 
To the old one he said, "why didn't you flee. 

You might known he would kill you, he's a cousin to me." 

On the lake was George Sawyer, the bravest of all, 
Who rescued a stranger in a fearful squall, 

77 



Whose boat had capsized and to it he clung, 

\Vhile his wife on the shore in grief her hands wrung. 

Then Sawyer came running and cursing and swearing, 
And calHng them cowards for not even daring 

To go to the rescue, "You cowardly hounds. 

Will you all stand there gawping and see a man drown?'* 

He sprung in a boat and in spite of the waves. 

In less than ten minutes the stranger he saved; 
And brought him ashore to his wife bathed in tears, 

And the crowd that had gathered for Sawyer gave cheer 
Now Lyford and Barber from old Syracuse, 

Brought telescope rifles that shot like the deuce, 
They went up with Crary to Cranberry Lake, 

And got all the vension and trout they could take. 

John, Abert and Will from Massena came here — 

To go in the woods to get a few deer — 
They went to the Windfall with Crary and son. 

Four fell if they stood and were killed if they run. 
There was Uncle Hi Hutchins, I will not forget, 

He was the best fisherman I ever met, 
For we caught just a hundred straight pounds of good trout 

And in Sackrider's peddUng trunk we brought them out. 



THE BATTLE OF PLATTSBURGH ON LAKE CHAM- 
PLAIN 

(Written April 3, 1914.) 

One hundred years have rolled around. 

And we have come to view the ground. 
Where our forefathers bravely fought. 

And with their blood our freedom bought. 
In eighteen hundred and fourteen, 

A gallant band might have been seen, 
At Plattsburgh and on Lake Champlain, 

Their country's honor to maintain, 

78 



Four uncles joined this noble band, 

To fight for home and native land, 
When Redcoats cross'd the Yankee linC; 

An easy victory sure to find. 
But they found out their sad mistake 

When to their heels they had to take, 
For when they tried the bridge to cross, 

'Twas there they met with fearful loss. 

For on the stringers guns were trained, 

That swept them off in heaps of slain. 
Three times they tried to rush across. 

But each time added to their loss ; 
Then up the river they withdrew. 

And tried the river to wade through ; 
But ere they reached the other shore. 

Again they hear an awful roar; 

For Yanks were hid behind the trees, 

That swept them down with greatest ease. 
■'Twas then the river ran with gore. 

And they were driven back once more. 
The British and Macdonough's fleet 

Now on the lake was seen to meet ; 
And soon the cannon's fearful roar. 

Was echoing back from shore to shore. 

The Yankee guns were sighted right ; 

With desperation now both fight, 
But Yankee marksmanship soon led. 

The British decks were strewn with dead — 
In helpless wrecks their ships soon lay. 

They could not even run away ; 
So one by one their colors lower. 

And the Yankee fleet towed them ashore. 

The army had beheld the sight. 

And quickly now they took to flight, 

For they imagined that they see, 

A Yank behind each stump and tree. 

And heard them shouting ev'ry one, 

79 



''You've got too far from Canada, run boys, run." 
And from that time they've been too shrewd 
On Yankee freedom to intrude. 

Our Eagle sits on freedom's bough. 

The Lion keeps his own den now, 
We've come to-day to celebrate 

The victory of that battle great. 
That help'd decide our nation's fate ; 

And saved our glorious ship of state, 
And though in peace their ashes lie. 

The fame they won will never die — 
Down through the ages it will roll 

As lasting as the purest gold. 

* * * 

THE DYING HUNTER 

In the forest deep where the lilies sweet 

Shed their fragrance, lovely fragrance on the air, 
'Round the sparkling pond skips the playful fawn 

Sporting so free, sporting so free from ev'ry care ; 
Where the white gull waves her snowy white wing 

Over the lake ; over the lake she skims along 
To her native rock where her own little flock. 

Ever murmur, ever murmur forth their song. 

Chorus : — 

Then take me back to my forest home. 

From it again. I'll never roam — 
Away from the city and tower and dome ; 

Oh give me back my forest home. 

Where the brooklet sings and the speckled trout springs. 
Music of birds ; music of birds fill the air ;. 

And the busy bee in the tall hollow tree, 

Beautiful sweets ; beautiful sweets stow'd with care ; 

Where the noisy loon by the light of the moon, 

Over the wave and under the wave she floats, along. 

08 



While the Eagle that I love sits upon the crag above, 
And the whipoorwill warbles forth her song. 

Chorus : — 

When the evening shades fall among the glades, 

And the nightengale's song begins to blend, 
Returning from the chase my footsteps I'll retrace, 

To my home; ever green home in the glen. 
With my light canoe and my rifle so true, 

Over the stream, over the stream I'll swiftly glide. 
And the firefly lamp, it will guide me to the camp, 

Beautiful home ; beautiful home of the free. 

Change of tune. 

Once more I'm back on the shining shore; 

Once more I meet with the friends of yore. 
The stories and songs are repeated o'er. 

As they cluster around my shanty door. 
I will drink from the cooling fountain, 

Of the brook that ripples through the dell; 
I'll climb yon lofty mountain, 

Upon whose crag the eagles dwell. 

Chorus : — 

But hark, I hear an angel song; 

Oh, don't you hear it float along? 
Adieu, adieu, my forest home. 

Bright angels now for me have come. 
Oh now I see a heavenly gleam, 

Shine down on me as I reach death's stream- 
On the bank of the lake where I used to roam. 

Oh lay me to rest near my forest home. 



ST. LAWRENCE COUNTY 
Near where old St. Lawrence rolls down from the lakes 

81 



Lies our noble old St. Lawrence County — 
The largest and grandest in all of our state, 
And fill'd up with heaven's choice bounties, 

She can boast of her forests and rivers so grand 
As they rush down her mountains so frantic, 

Creating the best waterpower in the land, 
In their mad rush to reach the Atlantic. 

Of her life giving springs and the purest of air. 

Of her butter and cheese with which few can compare; 

Stow'd away in the earth with the greatest of care 
There is iron and copper and crystals so rare. 

Of her Governor Wright, her Parker and Russell, 
Her Curtis and Kings and Iveses and Merritts, 

And hundreds of more who have just made thing's hustle 
And proved to the world they were full eighteen carets. 

Of, her beautiful fruit with their flavor so rare, 

That touches the palate just right. 
With color so crimson and so bright and fair 

That it sells on the market at sight ; 

Her authors and poets now come to the front 
And our boys are nov/ filling high stations, 

They'er made of true stuff and their will and their won't, 
Will help to control our great nation. 

We also have schools that are second to none 
Where our boys get a grand education, 

And when by hard work the grand prize they have won 
They are fitted to fill any station. 

Then hail old St. Lawrence, and hail her brave boys, 
That are scatter'd throughout our great nation. 

And when they see this they will know we rejoice 
When we hear how they won their high station. 

We don't mean to boast that we all know the most. 
There is one fact that stands out quite plain, 

82 



Though born far away from the city or court, 
We are noted for both rush and brains. 



* * 



SPANISH WAR 
(Tune on, on on the boys came marching.) 

The time it came at last when we heard the bugles blast, 
As it caird our boys to war from sea to sea, 

And the boys went marching on 'neath a broiUng tropic sun. 
They were bound to set poor, bleeding Cuba free. 

Chorus : — 

On, on, on the boys went marching, 

And they made the Spaniards flee. 
For the red and yellow flag 

It was nothing but a rag 
When it met the Stars and Stripes on land or sea ; 

Brave Dewey led the van, though he did not lose a man. 
For the God of battles fought for us that day; 

In the darkness of the night, he sail'd past their forts all right 
And was ready for the fight at break of day. 

Chorus : — 

On, on, on his ships went sailing. 

While the flagship led the way 
He sunk the Spanish fleet, 

And distroyed their forts complete, 
And he won a grand and glorious victory. 

Brave Hobson and his crew seem'd to know just what to do 
Though the shot and shell fell 'round them thick as hail, 

Ev'ry man was in his place while they made the fearful race. 
All determined that their project should not fail. 

Chorus : — 



On, on, on this ship went saiHng 
With the Stars and Stripes so trim, 

When brave Hobson lower'd the boats. 
And away from her he floats 

Then he sent her to the bottom with a vim. 

Next comes the Atlantic fleet with a victory complete, 
For each ship contain'd a brave and noble crew, 

With a Schley that can't be beat they distroy'd Cervera's 
fleet 
And the wrecks alone: the Cuban coast thev strew. 



'fc> 



Chorus : — 

Brave Roosevelt led the boys, who with shouts and with 
hurrahs, 

Up the hill of San Juan went with a rush. 
Not a man was seen to quail as they faced the leaden hail 

'Till the last one of their hidden foes were crushed. 

Chorus : — 

On, on, on the boys went marching. 

While fallen comrades lined the way; 
High on the roll of fame 

Stands the record and the name 
Of the boys that charged on San Juan that day. 

Now the cruel war is o'er and our boys are home once more 
And the Spaniards have been driven o'er the sea — 

A united South and North we will celebrate the fourth, 
And we'll have a grand and glorious jubilee. 

Chorus : — 



AN INDIAN LEGEND 

'Twas many, many moons ago 

Down from the land of ice and snow 



84 



Our tribe and Chieftain came — 
The mound builders a feeble folk 

Soon fell before the Red Man's stroke 
And we took land and game. 

Then many, many moons rolled by 
And the great spirit seemed to fly, 

And lead his poor red child — 
He led him o'er prairies fine; 

The forests green with game was lined, 
And Indian corn grew wild. 

We soon found out that it was good, 
And made the very best of food, 

When it was roasted green. 

Or parched and made up into cake, 

Which all our squaws soon learned to make, 
As with us now 'tis seen. 

Pappose and Squaw were happy then; 

Firewater made by vile white men, 
The Red Alan did not know ; 

We chased the bison and the moose, 
With turkey, chicken and wild goose 

Our lodges then were strewn. 

We rode our ponies o'er the plain, 
And joy and peace supremely reigned 

Until that fatal day, 

The idol of our tribe so fair. 

With sparkling eyes and flowing hair. 
Was stole from us away. 

A young chief from a neighboring tribe 

Had taken her to be his bride. 
Against the maiden's will ; 

Young braves were in their saddles quick, 
They take the trail and to it stick, 

Resolved the wretch to kill. 

O'er hill and plain their ponies skim, 

85 



Until the twilight shades grow dim, 
And they were forced to camp ; 

But when the morn begins to break, 
The trail again they quickly take, 

Resolved to catch the scamp. 

The chase in earnest now begins, 

Through forests green and swampy fen. 

His trail he tries to hide, 

But his pursuers are not blind, 

They circle 'round and quickly find. 
For life he now must ride. 

To ride and lead a pony too. 

He found was more than he could do, 
And the result was plain 

He knew if they should him o'er take 
That torture surely 'd be his fate — 

All pleading would be vain. 

His haughty lip now curled with pride 
And then he swore no other's bride, 

This lovely maid should be. 

He drove his dagger to her heart, 

Then for his village quickly starts, 
Now from his burden free. 

Her lover knelt and bowed his head, 

And kissed those lips now cold and dead, 

His heart was filled with grief; 

He bore her home with tenderest care. 

And laid her in her wigwam there — 
The dauo-hter of our Chief. 



'&' 



His comrades still pursue the wretch. 
Resolved the miscreant to catch, 

Ere he shall reach his tribe. 

Her brother leading in the chase, 

Now fast he's closing up the space, 
And both for life now ride. 



86 



A few more minutes, he will be 

Safe from his deadly enemy, 
In his own village fair. 

The bow string's twang now sends the dart, 
That pierces through the villian's heart. 

Then war-whoops rend the air. 

He takes his scalp, and in great haste 
Their footsteps now they will retrace. 

His tribe has seen him fall, 

They mount their ponies and give chase, 

But our brave boys maintain the pace 
Till night sent down her pall. 

Now silently they wend their way. 

And reach their friends ere break of day. 

Their enemies they've foiled. 
Both villages are now astir. 

And they at once prepare for war. 
And a big council called. 

The father was the first to speak, 

Though tears ne'er wet an Indian's cheek; 
His heart is very sad. 

But he with trembling lips relates 
The story of his daughter's fate. 

Which sent the whole tribe mad. 

With sad, sad hearts both squaw and brave 
In silence stood around her grave. 

With flowers they strewed it o'er. 
And then with tomahawks in hand. 

They struck the war post to a man 
And bitter vengeance swore. 

In a few days the two tribes met. 

And field and wood with blood was wet — 

They had a fearful fight. 

And cruel war has had her sway. 

Among the Red Men from that day. 
And might with them was right. 

87 



The white man came and from that day 
Our land from us he took away, 

And drove us from our homes — 

They drove us west, then farther west. 

And never gave us peace or rest, 
•But robbed us of our tombs. 

The white man cannot o'er us boast; 

His land is filled w4th murdered ghosts, 
By cruel war struck down ; 

And though he claims to think it's right, 
To kill each other in the fight, 

A great wrong twill be found. 

This hand of mine although 'tis red, 
Yet human blood it never shed; 

My heart is clean and white ; 

When the great spirit brings me home, 

Through happy hunting grounds Vl\ roam, 
In that great world of light. 

There squG,w and papoose will meet me, 
From pain and sorrow we'll be free. 

And on bright pinions rise, 

And then we'll fly through endless space ; 

See the Great Spirit face to face. 
And dwell above the skies. 



* * 



THANKSGIVING IN THE DEAR OLD HOME 

With pride I look back o'er the fieeting years. 

When the dear ones all came flocking home 
To spend their Thanksgiving and bring us good cheer, 

And through the old orchard to roam ; 
A great joy it was to their father and mother, 
■ Who so long to the old home had clung, 
It was then that kind greetings they had for each other — 
And together the old songs we sung. 

88 



Then 'round the big table we sat side by side, 

With the richest of viands 'twas spread; 
Which none but their mother could ever provide, 

And no one preside in her stead. 
With the richest of fruit our table was decked, 

With snows and with Mcintosh Red; 
For those days to return I can never expect ; 

On the swift wings of time they have sped. 

There is mother and Carrie and Ira and Berd 

And Georgie and Alamie and Herbert in line. 
And the next one you'll guess without saying a word, 

Mr. and Mrs. Bullis come next and Cora and Dolly behind. 
This picture was taken and I have it yet, 

No money this picture would buy, 
For a treasurer so rare you don't often get. 

And I'll cling to it now till I die. 

Now death has broke into this once happy throng, 

And taken our loved one away,_ 
And God in his wisdom knows only how long 

That we'll be permitted to stay. 
On the hillside of time like a venerable oak 

Exposed to life's storms, I now stand. 
But to Christ my redeemer I'll continue to look 

And face life and death like a man. 

^ Jjc ^ 

IN HONOR OF THE BOYS WHO FELL AT VERA 

CRUZ 

Our fleet at Vera Cruz arrives ; 

Seventeen brave boys their precious lives 
Laid on their country's altar, 

Though rifles from the house tops cracked. 
They found they could not drive them back, 

Nor even make them falter. 

But like brave Spartans held their ground. 
Though messengers of death flew 'round, 

89 



Until at last they fell — 

They died Old Glory to maintain, 
They lost their lives, but not in vain; 

They did their duty well. 

Ones father and his brother, too. 

Are ready still to dare and do, 
And take these brave boys' place ; 

No greater courage can be shown. 
Nor in this world was ever known 

In any land or race. 

High on the nation's roll of fame, 

With their hearts' blood they've put their name, 
In letters pure as gold, 

And there they'll stand and prove they prized 
Their country's weal above their lives. 

As Spartans did of old. 

Now the Montana brings them home. 
And in New York thousands will come. 

And follow to their graves. 

A nation's tears be for them shed 

Who for Old Glory's honor bled, 
While o'er their graves she waves. 

The flags were lowered at half mast. 

On every vessel that they passed; 
W^hile our ships fired a salute 

In honor of our noble dead. 
Who for their country's honor bled. 

While friends with grief are mute. 

A nation joins you in your grief. 

Which to your hearts must give relief. 

You know they mourn with you. 

How many more brave boys must fall. 

Is a dark mystery to us all ; 
But one thing will prove true, 

That our brave boys now in the field 

90 



To twice their number will not yield, 
Though cruel death they face, 

With our big guns it will be seen. 
They'll blow them into smithereens 

And ten a thousand chase. 

Our citizens they must protect. 
And show Old Glory due respect, 

Or get wiped off the earth. 

A bitter lesson they'll learn yet. 

Something they never will forget — 
'Twill prove our armies worth. 



NAVAL BATTLE ON THE SEA OF JAPAN 
(Tune, Marching through Georgia.) 

Raise the flag and ring the bells 

For Togo's fleet's in sight ; 
Ah, see how proud she rides the swell. 

Nor turns to left or right. 
'Twas thus she met the Russian fleet, 

i\nd showed them how to fight. 
For ev'ry shell in spite of swells. 

Was aimed exactly right. 

That gallant fleet; that mighty fleet. 

That fought the English trawlers, 
And won a victory complete 

Which made them feel much taller. 
But when this fleet our Togo met 

They found he carried guns. 
And to the cat hole they must get 

And either sink or run. 

Chorus : — 

Hurrah, hurrah, they sunk the Russian fleet; 
Hurrah, hurrah, their victory was complete ; 

91 



For they can shoot a cannon just as well as any gjin, 

They sunk them when they stood, and hit them when they 
run. 

Now, Togo signaled ev'ry man 

To do his uttermost. 
For if we're beat, you'll understand 

Our Kingdom will be lost. 
Into confusion soon they're thrown, 

Their ships begin to sink, 
Their engines hit by shells now groan. 

Which makes their gunners blink. 

No wonder that their shots went wild. 

And done so little harm. 
With victory they had been beguiled. 

But now they were alarmed; 
The Russian decks were soon a hell 

With dead men strewed around. 
And every shell now screamed and yelled, ;;,. • 

And says they must go down. 

So one by one they slowly lowered 

And plunge beneath the wave, 
And ev'ry living soul aboard. 

Soon found a watery grave. 
Now Rojetsvenskie left his ship, , 

And jumped into the sea; 
He saw that he would have to skip. 

Or lost he'd surely be. 

And from that time you'll plainly see, 

That Togo had his way ; 
And only just a few got free — 

The rest are ours to-day. 
We're masters now of our own sea, 

Our fate hung on a thread. 
Brave Togo won this victory 

And Russia's hopes are dead. 



THE LAST HUNTER IN THE ADIRONDACK MOUN- 
TAINS 

A weary hunter long had chased 

The bounding buck o'er hill and dale ; 
Of food since morn he had not tasted— 

His voice was faint, his cheek was pale ; 

The snow was deep, his limbs were chilled. 

When night her sable mantle drew 
For miles through vales and o'er bleak hills 

His lonely way he must pursue. ' ■' 

He often lies down in the snow, 

With hunger and fatigue oppressed; 
He knows not how far he's to go, - '■ 

Before his weary limbs can rest. '''' 

He hears the fierce wolf's distant howl, 

And knows he's on his track ; 
He hears the savage panther's growl, 

But naught can turn him back. 

His trusty rifle in his hand. 

His hatchet by his side. 
His hunting knife at his command 

They're friends that's true and tried. 

At length a light peers through the trees. 

The hunter's spirit now revives, 
And though the snow is to his knees. 

To gain that dwelling now he strives. 

A lady met him at the' door 

And spoke kind words of goodly cheer; 

The best she had, she set before. 

And said a stranger's welcome here. 

That hunter never will forget 

The welcome which he then received, 
That lady never will regret 

93 



That she his suffering's did reheve. 

Now may kind heaven increase her store, 

Increase a thousand fold 
And may she never hunger more, 

Who fed a hunter faint and cold. 



THE OPPRESSIVE GAME LAWS 

Now Governor Plughes, there is no excuse 

For vetoing the two cent bill, 
For the rich man can ride by the poor man's side 

For two cents where ever he will. 
But the laboring man must do as he can. 

Earning bread by the sweat of his brow, 
Must pay nearly three or get off you see, 

For a book he can't buy any how. 

And that trespass law you took in your maw, 

And made it a crime and a fine 
Preserves to go cross, although you are lost, 

You must pay or in jail you'll repine. 
Now for only six cents the farmer's fence 

And grass and grain is tread down. 
But its twenty-five dollars when the rich man hollars- 

You must pay or in jail you'll be found. 

It is one dollar ten to carry a gun 

From the poor man's small pittance of cash, 
Or pay sixty dollars if the rich man hollers, 

Or the gaol door behind him will crash. 
Now this friction so great, forest fires create. 

And the woods will soon be burnt down; 
If bad laws ain't repealed a wild barren field, 

Our forest, I fear, will be found. 

Her fate I deplore for a few times more, 

I would like to roam over her hills. 
And savory meat bring down at my feet, 

94 



For nothing else will fill the bill, 
Oh, oh, what a shame but who is to blame, 

The rich man made all of these laws ; 
Now the way to reduce this shameful abuse, 

Is to vote down their party and cause. 



BEAUTIFUL FRUIT 

Oh beautiful fruit ; God's bountiful gift. 

Whose flavor is drawn from the sun ; 
And poor fallen man from his low estate lifts, 

And helps him the race of life run. 

No picture for beautiy that man ever made, 

With the genuine fruit can compare ; 
So brilliant in color and perfect in shade, 

And with colors so varied and rare. 

And first stands the apple that tempted poor Eve ; 

If the legend that's told us is true, 
And it would tempted me I verily believe. 

And a red one I'm sure would tempt you. 

Then there is the plum, the peach and the pear, 

The lemon and orange so grand, 
And the grape with whose wine there can nothing compare 

And wild berries cover the land| 

Oh beautiful heaven to man has been given 

These beautiful fniits for his food, 
And thus to us given a foretaste of heaven 

Which proves that God's both wise and good. 

He tells us again in that heavenh^ land 

The grand tree of life we shall find. 
The tree's so prolific, the fruit is so grand, 

And each bears twelve different kinds. 

Now the infidel says this story's a lie, 

95 



Oh what a poor ignorant goose, 
If he'll come to my place I will quick show him why 
I can make each limb bear what I choose. 

Then why should he doubt that Almighty God, 
Who created the world and the trees : 

Whose words they obey, and one single nod 
W^ould make them bear just what he pleased? 

Now, this God I'll adore while I stay on this shore, 

And eat of this fruit at my will. 
And when the dark river I've safely pass'd o'er, 

From the tree of life may I eat still. 

5jj ^ ^ 

OPPORTUNITY 

They call me opportunity; 

But once in a life time we meet. 
As I hasten through your community 

I walk on the toes of my feet, 

And those wings on my feet that you see. 
Are to show you how quick I pass by. 

Unless by the hair you now seize me. 
When past you I quickly will fly. 

Though again for the chance you miay yearn. 
When once you have let me pass by. 

You will find that I never return 
But onward, straight onward I fly. 

The wise Greeks a statue did raise. 

And on it this lesson engraved. 
That the traveler upon it might gaze 

And from disappointment be saved. 

Then let us this lesson receive. 

And then we shall never regret. 
Or will never have reason to grieve. 

That we did not seize her when we met. 

96 




CO 
QO 

til 



a 

o 

a 

o 






•on 
C 






THE GREAT WINDFALL NEAR CRANBERRY LAKE 

Among the Adirondack peaks, 

Where nature played her wildest freaks, 
I've wander 'd many a day, 

To hunt the panther, bear and deer, 
And followed them devoid of fear, 

In hopes my game to slay. 

O'er rocky cliffs, through swampy fens, 

I've traced the creatures to their dens, 
And slain them in their lair. 

Here wild tornadoe's tracks are seen, 
That swept the forest slick and clean. 

And hills and plains left bare. 

For miles and miles the tempest tore 

Trees from their roots and broke them o'er. 

And piled them up in heaps ; 

It spread about one half mile wide. 

And swept on like the ocean's tide. 
Yet a straight line it keeps. 

It's power and fury seemed to gain 

From Osewegatchie to Champlain ; 
It mowed a fearful swath, 

But when it struck that lovely lake 
It's force at once it seemed to break. 

And in the air bounds off. 

God in his mercy sent the storm 

Where it would do but little harm ; 
Thus many lives were saved, 

For had it gone through settled lands 
It would not left a beast or man. 

But swept them to their grave. 

From West to East in a straight line 

It n]ade a landmark for all time. 
Full seventy miles in length. 

In it we see the hand of God 

97 



When he sends down his chastening rod; 
It shows his mighty strength, 

Who spoke and worlds at his command, 

Divided water from the land. 
As into space they fly, 

And there they fly through endless space 
Each has it's track and it's own place, 

And goes true as a die. 

And though they cross each other's track, 

The law God made is so exact, 
They never come together, . . 

But each one comes in his own time — 
There's no collision on this line ; 

They're guided by the Father. 

Then 1 will wonder and adore ; 

Oh may, he guide me ever more. 
Till time with me grows dim. 

Then take me home the song to sing; 
Redeeming love of God my King, 

And reign in heaven with him. 

^ ^ ;^ 

THE CIRCUIT RIDER 

Answer to a yarn in the Watertown Standard, entitled a 
Circuit Rider's Experience in the North Country. 

This fellow got the big head 

And thought it would be best 
A yarn to spin but he got in 

A living hornets nest ; 
He found North Country was not slow 

An insult to resent, 
And so he thought it best to go 

And took his clothes and went. 

If in the North Country he's caught, 

98 



By court marshall he'll quickly be tried, 
When the gauntlet he's run, he'll find it's no fun; 

When the oil of blue beech is applied; 
Now a lesson we hope he will learn. 

And hereafter keep truth on his side. 
Or on a rail he will not fail 

Some day to take a ride. 

* * * 

LIFE IN THE ADIRONDACKS 

In the North Country's forest grand. 

The wildest place in all the land, 
With foilage so green, 

There mountain peaks in bold relief. 
And hill and plain and grassy heath 

Add beauty to the scene. 

Here lovely lakes and ponds are seen. 
And beaver meadows, fresh and green, 

And brooks and rivers rise. 

Where speckled trout dart up the streams, 

'Tis merry sport and 'tis no dream 
To catch them with the flies. 

You don't get even time to think; 

They catch the fly as quick as wink, 
And down the stream they glide ; 

But soon they fl.nd the line is stout, 
And sharp hooks now have hooked the trout, 

You draw him in with pride. 

Now those who never tried the sport, 
Of keenest pleasure have come short, 

And never felt the thrill 

That passes through the sportsman's heart, 

And gives his very blood a start. 
While his basket with beauties fills. 

The grouse are plenty in these woods 

99 



And if a man is any good 
He'll bring in a fine string; 

Now when a partridge is fried brown 
A dainty morsel it is found, 

And it would please a king. 

Here sportsmen come and camp for weeks, 
And after health and pleasure seeks, 

And rare sports they enjoy: 

They see a deer's track in the snow. 

And now you'll see him creeping slow, 
And ev'ry means employ 

At that fine buck to get a crack, 

And hopes e'er night to bring him back, 

His skill he means to show. 

He leaves the track and swings around; 

The wily creature hears a sound. 
And bounds off o'er the- snow. 

He follows on with hunter's grit 

In hopes at him a shot to get. 
One that will bring him down ; 

And now again the hunter creeps 
Up o'er the hills so high and steep, 

Until his game he's found. 

He brings his rifle to his face. 

And aims it at a vital place. 
And at the rifles crack 

The deer now gives a mighty bound, 
The blood is flowing from the wound, 

'Tis seen along his track. 

The hunter's nerves now reach a pitch 
That makes his very fingers itch 

To get another shot. 

This time good luck his efforts crown. 

His last shot brings the fellow down. 
And a fine buck he's got. 



100 



Back to the shanty then with pride, 
A pair of antlers by his side, 

To all is perfect proof 

That he's a hunter and 'tis clear 

That he has killed as fine a deer 
As ever wore a hoof. 

Exciting scenes now ev'ry day 

Make days and weeks soon slip away; 

Soon we must leave the woods 
Back to our labor we must go, 

To farm, or shop, or mill you know. 
Or store to sell our goods. 

But if we live another year 

We certainly will come up here 

And have our pleasures o'er : 

For when we're here you'll plainly see, 

From care and worry we are free 
On this delightful shore. 



MY DEAR. OLD HOME ON THE HILL 

My dear old home up on the hill. 

Near Adirondacks forest grand; 
My heart with rapture now is filled, 

Although I'm now an old, old man. 

I look back to them happy days, 

And seem to live them o'er. 
When brothers, sisters, playmates played. 

All 'round my father's door. 

Beneath that grand old apple tree. 

The happy hours we pass'd; 
Fond memory brings them back to me. 

And will while memory lasts. 

Those lovely songs we used to sing, 

101 



When night her mantle drew, 
Still in my ears they seem to ring 
As they did years ago. 

'Twas then I only look'd ahead, 

But now I'm looking back, 
Friends, of my youth are most all dead 

But friends I do not lack, 

For I have children kind and true, 

Who give me tenderest care. 
Beside my life companion too, 

My dear old home to share. 

ril eat the fruit from my own tree 

Set by my once strong hand. 
And though Fm old I'll happy be. 

In the home of my native land. 

Then with my grandchildren, I'll play. 

And have all the fun that I can, 
For I know it's not long that I shall stay. 

But I'll face life and death like a man. 

Then I'll worship the God who long hfe has given, 

And serve him the best that I can. 
In hopes at the last he will take me to heaven, 

At the feet of mv Saviour to stand. 



STANFORD WHITE'S DEN 

That awful place that's a disgrace 

To any land or nation, 
A rich man's den whose aim and end 

Was poor girl's degradation : 
That Stanford White had such a place. 

There seems but little doubt, 
It is a blessing to our race 

When such men are sent out. 



102 



A man who would employ his skill 

Poor helpless maidens to destroy, 
Should be sent cross lots straight to hell, 

Where they will find employ; 
For there he'll find Old Satan's darts, 

Will pierce clear through his soul, 
While demons tear his vile black heart 

And fiery billows roll. 

All but one juror true as steel, 

To their convictions true. 
They stood for hours and would not yield, 

What their oaths bound them to do. 
But there was one who made by chance 

With a soul so mighty small 
On a needle's point ten thousand could dance 

With plenty of room for all. 

If such black crimes should be allowed, 

A reign of terror there would be, 
A Sodom and Gomorrah crowd 

In New York City you would see. 
No virtuous woman should look down, 

On the girl that exposed the plot. 
But on her side they should be found 

And her misfortune be forgot. 

Now public opinion cannot be crushed, 

Or thrown behind the door, 
They'll have their opinion and have it they must, 

Though District Attorneys may roar. 
Now there's old Jerome, he'd better go home. 

And crawl down into his hole. 
For the people are sick of his playing tricks. 

And his spending the people's gold. 

For what fool can't see he's chasing a flea, 
And spending our money for naught, 

Now if he gets Thaw, he ain't worth a straw. 
And the fiddle's too dearly bought; 

But he thinks it's funny to spend the State's money, 

103 



When the biggest share of it he's getting; 
But Thaw is so smart that he's kept the start 
And Jerome he is surely outwitting. 

H^ ^ H^ 

PHIL SHERIDAN'S RIDE DOWN THE VALLEY 

Phil mounted on a powerful steed 

Now down the valley takes the lead : 
Alarming news, his soul had stir'd, 

His boys retreating he had heard; 
Both whip and spur, he now appHes, 

And down the valley fairly flies ; 
He must get there at any cost, 

Or else the battle will be lost. 

Montgomery was the first to meet, 

Who says we'll make a safe retreat, 
"Not by D sight," Phil blurts out, 

"I want you boys to turn about — 
Come' back and help me," boys he said. 

'Twas then towards the front he led; 
The next he met was Custer's command 

Who had crossed the ravine and there took their stand, 

Custer said, 'Tn the bushes our guns are hid well, 

When they cross that ravine then we'll give them hell ; 
Phil saw through his plan, then quicker than wink. 

And says, ''you are the stuff, here have something to drink, 
The Rebs we will slaughter without any warning, 

And I'll have my headquarters where they were this morn- 
ing." 
And long before night he made his word good, 

And accomplished a feat that no other man could. 

Such generals as Phil you don't often meet, 
For he won a big batttle in the face of defeat. 

And drove the Rebs back where ever he led ; 

Their pathway was scattered with wounded and dead, 

And our glorious union, he helped to preserve, 

104 



And a nation's gratitude he well deserved. 
Then over his ashes a monument raise, 

While historian and poet will sing of his praise. 

WARNING OF FIRE, FLOOD AND DROUTH, FAMINE 
AND PESTILENCE TO FOLLOW 

(Written when Roosevelt took McKinley's place.) 

I've worked all my life on this noble old farm, 

While others the cities have sought. 
In growing fine fruit by Nature's charm. 

This science to perfection I've brought. 

But now I'll quit work, the pen I'll take up, 

Though of it I make awkward work, 
x^nd though bitter drugs may be put in my cup 

My duty I never will shirk. 

I will say wrong is wrong, and say right is right 

Though demons around me may howl. 
For God and my country I ever will fight. 

Though party and friends on me scowl. 

Our country has sinned; we must now pay the debt, 

For innocent blood from the grotmd 
Is crying to God and he'll punish us yet — 

In the Philippine Islands 'tis found. 

Now fires and floods are destroying our west, 

And fires and floods south and east, 
And a just God in heaven will give us no rest, 

Till this poor oppressed people's releast. 

Oh who is so blind that they can't see a curse 

Has struck us for what we have done ; 
These people release or he'll make it worse 

And a pestilence on us may come. 

Concentrado camps for their families we made, 

105 



Where with pestilence thousands have died, 
We've put Spanish cruelty back in the shade 
While the vile water cure we've tried. 

A just God in heaven whose anger is slow, 

But is sure as the sun in its course, 
Will punish our country for all of this woe, 

And nothing could happen us worse. 

Oh then let our country this great wrong make right, 
For five hundred thousand we've killed, 

Just simply because for their freedom they fight 
Their country with mourning we've filled. 

Then sackloth put on and let us repent, 

Ere the vengeance of God on us fall. 
And perchance like old Nineveh if we repent 

Our sentence of death he'll recall. 

* * * 
POTSDAM'S CENTENNIAL 

'Twas just one hundred years ago 

The settlers first broke ground ; 
The forest then they soon laid low. 

And founded Potsdam town : 
The settlers now would hardly know 

The place if they were here. 
Where stood the tree they first laid low 

Or any where a near. 

They'd stand and gaze and look around; 

'Twould filll their hearts with awe. 
And wonder if this was the town 

So long ago they saw. 
The news soon sped back to Vermont, 

From whence the settlers came. 
That the people here need know no want 

For the land was filled with erame. 



fe' 



Then others soon came flocking in, 

106 



And new foundations laid, 
And the village as you see it now 

Is the work of ten decades, 
And as one hundred years roll on 

We'll all be swept away 
And ev'ry one that's here be gone 

Where our fathers are today. 

But noble sons will take our place, 

And finish the work we've begun ; 
Then don't let us mourn and draw down our face, 

But let us all smile and have fun. 
Our village is something of which we are proud, 

For our buildings are now something grand, 
And our village today is filled with a crowd 

That's an honor to our noble land. 

Our streets are paved and sidewalks laid. 

And we have splendid grounds ; 
Electric lights now light our nights, 

And the cars now sweep through our town. 
Yes three fine railroads span our town, 

And hustle business too ; 
In stores and mills enough is found 

For ev'ry one to do. 

• Then ev'ry one should happy be, 

And all rejoice today; 
Time ere an other century 

Will sweep us all away; 
And still the world will roll right on, 

And we be hardly missed. 
And greater wonders will be done, 

Than those that now exist. 

Hi * * 

GOLDEN WEDDDING ANNIVERSARY OF MR. AND 
MRS. DANIEL ROBINSON 

Oh, how swiftly fifty years 

On the wings of time have flown, 

107 



Mingled with flowers and joys and tears 
Along our pathway strown. 

As I look back o'er fleeting years 

To the happy days of youth, 
A picture to me now appears 

Of friends that were friends in truth. 

And now there's but a few that's left 

Of all I used to know, 
But for the silent land they've left 

Where we must shortly go. 

Of those that's left, Alice and Dan 

Who fifty years ago 
Launched their ship, each took their stand 

And together they always row. 

And though the hand of time has swept, 

Their many friends away 
Their course you'll see they've always kept. 

And they're with us today. 

And now we've come to celebrate 

Their fiftieth wedding day. 
And thus we strive to elevate 

And smooth their future way. 

Now may kind heaven protect and keep 

This aged, happy pair; 
And when at last in death they sleep. 

A heaven together share. 

;H * * 

ON THE DEATH OF CARMELITA AND WINNIE 

CRARY 

(Daughters of Geo. L. and JuHa L. Crary, both taken in five 

days.) 

The evening stooped down o'er the beautiful flowers, 

108 



And kissed their fair lips with the dew, 
But the morning burst forth with omnipotent power 
And quickly the evening withdrew. 

It was thus cruel death kissed away our fair flowers, 

And laid them away in the tomb, 
But Jesus will raise them with majestic power 

Forever in glory to bloom. 

'Tis right we should weep when the shades o'er us fall, . 

For Jesus o'ver Lazarus wept, 
When Mary and Martha the Master had called. 

He told them that Lazarus but slept. 

They opened the tomb and he put forth his hand. 

And said to him, ''Lazarus arise," 
And death and the grave quick obeyed the command 

Of the King of the earth and the skies. 

'Twill be thus when that day of all days shall burst forth 

And our Saviour appears in the skies, 
From the east to the west from the south to the north 

He will bid all the nations arise. 

It is there we shall meet our sweet angels of light, 

And roam throiigh the regions of bliss 
In one endless day without any night 

And may none from our circle be missed. 



TEMPERANCE SONG 
(Tune, Marching Through Georgia.) 

See that little ragged girl go wandering down the street, 
Begging for a crust of bread or something she can eat. 

She says her mother's sick at home, their sufferings no one 
can tell 
While her father's lying drunk down at the big hotel. 

109 



Chorus : — 

Hurrah, hurrah we'll join the temperance cry; 

Hurrah, hurrah we'll fight and win or die, 
And we'll put down the whiskey trade. 

So all good people say 
For temperance is sure to win the day. 

I saw a poor old drunken man go staggering down the street, 
Proposing fight, and cursing ev'ry one he chance to meet, 

Oh my heart in pity for his wife and children bled 
For whiskey robs them of their daily bread. 

Chorus : — 

We call on all good, honest men to join us in the fight; 
We'll fight for God and liberty ; for temperance and the 
right. 
We'll fight to crush the whiskey ring who make this earth a 
hell 
In which so many noble men have fell. 

Chorus : — 

Ye voting men come listen now and look things up with care, 
And then no longer you will vote to help sustain the bear. 

But you will vote with us, we know, the perishing to save. 
And keep your sons from going down to fill a drunkard's 
grave. 

Chorus : — 

When government at Washington shall take the thing in 
hand. 
And make such laws that whiskey will be banished from 
our land, 
By making it a crime to make the stufif or buy or sell. 

And make ten thousand happy homes that whiskev made a 
hell. 

Chorus : — . . - 

110 



SPEECH MAKING TAFT 
(March 9th, 1914.) 

Taft says he's up an apple tree, 
'Twere better if he'd stay there, 

Instead of trying to make us see. 
That Washington would swear. 

He said that Grant had to resign. 
Because he would drink whiskey, 

Right at his tomb ; now wan't that fine. 
My stars boys don't that twist ye. 

He is a mighty man by weight, 

But that don't always count ; 
Lacks common sense to keep him straight, 

At least a small amount. 

Now can't you think of a few more 

Mean things that you can say 
About our noblest men of yore ? 

Now Billy you go way. 



AN ACROSTIC ON VIVIAN FOX 

(June 15, 191 1.) 

Very pleased to get your card, 

I must confess I was : 

Vivian, you must have worked hard. 

In a most noble cause, 

And with long life may you be blest — 

No grief or sorrow know. 

For learning is the very best 
Of guides where e'er we go. 
X is last letter of your name. 

Ill 



But soon it may not be the same, 

And if that should happen and you should think best, 
Just drop me a line and I'll write out the rest. 



* * 



ROOSEVELT AND AGUINALDO 

High on the roll of fame Aguinaldo wrote his name 
In large letters of the purest, purest gold, 

As a man who dared to fight for his country and the right, 
When he found out that his country had been sold. 

Gen Funston the myth, and old hell roaring Smith, 

Who committed those horrible crimes. 
Our goodess turns pale and her fate she bewails, 

For they daubed her all over with slime. 

And when with such men he had to contend. 

It is a great wonder to me 
How he held out so long against the great wrong 

In the struggle his country to free. 

For the things they invented are greatly lamented 

By a nation that boasts we are free ; 
With their vile water cure whose meanness I'm sure 

Would shame a wild Comanchee. 

And there is his capture, who can show such a chapter — 
Of low lived and mean treacherous work, 

When history you've searched you'll be left in the lurch, 
From creation clear down to the Turk. 

Now let's draw the vail for our goodess looks pale. 
And with shame wants to hide her fair head. 

And Old Glory's bright folds are now done up in roll. 
For she's wrapped 'round our brave noble dead. 

I have cheers for the living and tears for the dead. 

Who for country their dear lives have given ; 
But oh, what a shame there is some one to blame 

112 




Life in the Adifondacks — Poem on page 99 



For in this vile war they were driven. 

Then let us arouse from our nightmare and drouse, 

And give this brave man his just due ; 
Spreading liberty o'er his country once more, 

And the whole world will then applaud you. 

All honor to Roosevelt who with brave Cuba dealt, 

For you all with me must agree, 
That our flag he pulled down while old Mark Hanna frown'd. 

And set all the brave Cubans free. 

They all burst in tears for three very long years 

A stranger had governed their land ; 
And then who can wonder with cheers loud as thunder 

For Roosevelt they cheered to a man. 

For words I am pressed his praise to express. 

In recording his noblest deed, 
When Funston explained how our flag he had stained, 

Aguinaldo, he then quickly freed. 



* * 



BARNHART'S ISLAND 

On Barnhart's Island below the long Sault, 
Is the summer resort known as the Fairview ; 

The boating is good and the fare is the best, 

'Twill be found a good place for a traveler to rest. 

Here the great iron bridge the St. Lawrence has spanned. 
One hundred feet high, so majestic and grand. 

Now over the river the trains almost fly. 

And the boats far beneath them are seen sweeping by. 

And the hotel veranda looks out on the bay. 

Where 'tis pleasant to sit on a warm summer day. 

While the breeze from the river your brow gently fans. 
And you almost imagine you've reached fairy land. 

U3 



Adirondacks grand forest so fresh and so green, 

And her high mountain peaks in the distance are seen, 

Where the wildest of freaks dame nature has played. 
And thousands of beautiful lakes and ponds made. 

The farming is done in the very best style, 

And the fruit is delicious that grows on this isle ; 

While the flocks and the herds on the pastures so green. 
And the tall waving grass in the meadows are seen. 

One of the best orchards upon the State chart 
Is found on the farm of one Harvey Barnhart; 

It is set out in style in thirty feet squares, 

So each apple can see both the sun, moon and stars. 

Which will put on their color so fair and so bright 
That these apples will sell on the market at sight. 

Then let all who wish to have a good time, 

Come down here and prove the truth of my rhyme. 



THE FRIEND OE MY BOYHOOD 

I once had a friend that was dear as a brother; 

With the greatest devotion we clung to each other ; 
Together we played; and together we slept; 

Together rejoiced and together we wept : 
A friendship like ours, you seldom will find ; 

'Twas true as the needle and lasting as time. 

Chorus : — 

But to meet him again I never may hope ; 

He lies in his grave on the Pacific slope ; 
But his memory is green and it ever will be. 

Not only in time but in eternity. 

He wandered away on the wild rolling sea, 

Which was a great grief to his mother and me : 
How often we met; how often she wept; 

114 



How often she prayed that her boy miight be kept ; 
Be kept from the storm and the wild rolhng wave, 
Be kept from finding a watery grave. 



Chorus : — 



Three years rolled along and yet no tidings came, 
But still we hoped on and watched just the same ; 

She yearned as only a mother can yearn, 

And yet not a word of his fate could she learn: 

At length he came home and gave us great joy 
His mother once more embraced her boy. 



Chorus : 

When the wild bugle notes sounded forth the alarm, 
And the drums beat that ralHed our heroes to arms, 

He put on his knapsack and shouldered his gun, 
And marched to the front where fighting was done. 

He wrote to us then that he never would yield. 
As long as a Rebel was left in the lield. 

Chorus : — 

At Vicksburg and Corinth he met with the foe, 

And many a Grey Coat his rifle laid low; 
He staid in the field till the war was all o'er. 

And then he came home to his mother once more ; 
But away to the land of bright gold he would go 

And was murdered by Indians in far Idaho. 

Chorus : — 

* * * 

CHRIST'S STORY OF THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS 

There was a rich man with plenty and more 
And Lazarus the beggar was laid at his door: 

And the beggar soon died, is the story he tells. 
And the rich man died, and being in hell, 

115 



He lifted his eyes and strange to tell, 

In Abraham's bosom the beggar beheld; 
There with the bright angels forever to dwell, 

And he had bright robes and seemed happy and well. 

Then he said, "father Abraham let Lazarus come, 

Put his fingers in water and cool my tongue ; 
For I'm in great torment in this awful place, 

And I am to stay here through all time and space." 
But Abraham said there's a deep gulf, you see, 

That no one can pass between you and me ; 
To go over to you is what can't be done, 

And over to us there is no one can come. 

''Then please let him go and my brbothers give warning 

For the prophets and Moses I know they are scorning, 
For to ev'ry thing good they turn a deaf ear, 

And unless they are warn'd they are sure to come here," 
And now my dear reader don't let them fool you, 

For the story Christ told is certainly true : 
He told us this story to warn us, you know. 

To live right so into that place we won't go. 

* * * 

FIFTY YEARS AGO 

(Read at the fiftieth anniversary of the wedding of Richard and 

Calpurnia Fennimore.) 

Now fifty years have flown by quick, 

And I am growing old 
As well as Calpurnia and Dick 

For time has onward rolled. 

But heaven's high king has been so kind. 

And lengthened out their days — 
Preserved their bodies and their minds, 

For which we give him praise. 

Now I remember wxll the time 

116 



When they set out in Hfe, 
The wedding bells began to chime — 
Soon they were man and wife. 

With flowers their pathway soon was trewn, 

And joys to them soon come, 
The stork had to their dwelling flown 

And children blessed their home. 

Six children soon to them were given, 

Their happy home to bless, 
And four of them are now still living. 

And two are laid to rest. 

Now hand in hand for fifty years, 
They've traveled on together. 
They've had their joys and griefs and tears, 
Sunshine and rainy weather. 

For many years may they enjoy, 

The home their labor won. 
And reach a heaven without alloy 

When with this life they're done. 

H? H< * 

THE OLD MAN'S DREAM 

The old man sat in his old arm chair, 

With his grandchild on his knee, 
And he gazed with pride on her silken hair. 

And her face so full of glee. 
And his thought's went wandering back for years, 

O'er the past to his childhood days. 
And once again he imagines he hears 

His brothers and sisters at play. 

It was then that his heart was light and free. 
And the future to him looked so bright, 

Not a cloud in his future sky could he see. 
Nor a sign of decay or of Wight, 

As he wandered away in this cold, heartless world, 

117 



Where the battle of hfe he must fight, 
As into the whirlpool of time he was hurled 
To battle for God and the right. 

He saw in his dream the wife of his youth, 

He had chosen from all that he knew 
To share all his joys and griefs in truth. 

To do what no other could do ; 
And the dear little children that came to his home, 

Making home what a home should be, 
But oh, cruel death, how quickly it come, 

And carried away two or three ; 

Oh, how dreary the world had seemed to him then ; 

When his heart strings were bleeding and torn, 
He turned to the Saviour, mortals best friend, 

And leaned on him weary and worn. 
He awoke, 'twas a dream, a frightful dream, 

In which he had lived his life o'er ; 
Though each of the tableaux reality seemed; 

As real as they'd been before. 

* * * 

THE SIGNS OF THE TIMES 

* * * 

(September lo, 1913.) 

Can it be the great day of all days is approaching. 
When the world from its orbit is hurled. 

And that long, long eternity can we be broaching. 
When the parchment of time is unfurled? 

Foretold by God's prophets, the earthquakes have come, 

San Francisco has met with her doom, 
Valparaiso comes next where great damage is done ; 

Now, Kingston, Jamaica entombed. 

Now, what will come next, no man can foretell. 

Unless he's a prophet, that's sure ; 
The present subtract from the past, do it well, 

118 



And no answer on earth can be truer. 

Another large city will soon topple down, 

And jump around Hght as a cork; 
It may be Chicago or some other town, 

But I fear for our Greater New York. 

Oh, that great wicked city where skyscrapers tower 

So high o'er the cities around; 
You've been weighed in the balance by a higher power, 

And I tremble lest wanting you're found. 

Now Sunday excursions your railroads have planned 

To draw many people away 
From the places of worship throughout the whole land. 

And their trains they now run ev'ry day. 

Now evil prevails the whole length of your streets. 
And with trusts and with graft you've gone wild. 

The poor man's bread, the rich man eats 
And your starving his poor wife and child. 

It is plain to be seen that you will not repent. 

As Nineveh did once of old. 
But on to destruction I see you are bent. 

For you're trusting your blind gods of gold. 

God's Bible is true and we know it is too. 

For each day its truths come to pass. 
He says dust we are, to both me and you. 

And to dust we'll return at the last. 

To the ocean, he said I have set bars and doors, 

And these bounds you never can pass. 
Though rivers of water pour in from its shores. 

Its maker, obeys first and last. 

Oh, that Almighty God, who created the world. 

And is guiding it now with His hand. 
If we do his will on bright wings we'll be whirled 

And on that bright shore we shall land. 

119 



SPRING, SUMMER AND AUTUMN 

The spring swoop'd down on the sleeping earth, 

With her snow clad hills and plains, 
Whose streams had ceased their babbling mirth, 

Bound fast their icy chains. 
She breathed on the earth with her warm young breath 

And the snow quickly melted away, 
And the streams that were ice bound and silent as death 

From hill top to valley now play. 

Her twin sister, summer, now comes to her aid, 

And takes up the work she's begun. 
And though the foundations have mostly been laid. 

Yet a great deal remains to be done; 
For they must be warmed and be watered and fed, 

And be clothed with the evergreen hue. 
And the fruit must be set in the flower's stead 

And wet with the morning dew. 

Now autumn comes in to finish the plan. 

Her sisters have laid out so plain. 
To color and polish the fruit of the land, 

And to ripen the tall waving grain ; 
She fullv rewards all of those who have worked, 

And their bins filled with fruit and with grain. 
While the shiftless and lazy and all those who shirk, 

To such there is nothing remains. 



SENATOR HOAR 

We lower the flag, and tears fill our eyes. 
When America's noblest Senator dies, 

Who always has battled for justice and right, 

For which his own party he sometimes would fight. 

He always displayed moral courage so grand, 

120 



That all parties honored this grand, grand old man. 
Oh, would that our country had just a few more, 
Who would stand up for right like Senator Hoar. 

Once more we could look for the grand old days 

When our senators' wisdom the whole world praised. 

There was no Roman senator ever loved more. 
Than old Massachusetts loved Senator Hoar. 

And even Old Glory for him seems to mourn. 
As it hangs at half mast so limp and forlorn ; 

And though in the grave his body may mould, 
Here's written his name in letters of gold. 

Which are lead in the rock and through all time will stand 
As one who opposed the oppression of man ; 

His standard of right he held with such power. 
That no one was able that standard to lower. 

'Tis said he descended from New England stock. 
And he stood against wrong as firm as a rock. 

For slavery and serfdom he always abhorred 

And for freedom and right he oft drew his sword. 

And he struck right and left regardless of party 
Determined Old Glory they never should barter. 

And that never again over serfs and o'er slaves 
Her beautiful folds with blood stains should wave. 

He stood on the floor like a venerable oak. 
And the senate was silent whenever he spoke ;, 

And when again on the floor we shall meet 

We shall look with regret on the now vacant seat. 

Which so long has been filled by George Frisbie Hoar 

Whose equal we fear will fill it no more : 
In peace let him rest, he's fought the good fight. 

And a crown now awaits him in that world of light. 



121 



MY NAME 
(Sent to the U. S. Postmaster General.) 

I see you spell my name with ''U", 

But that I'm sure will never do; 
For you may search all through our town 

And no such person can be found, 
Instead just spell it with an "A" 

And you can find me any day; 
I fear 'twill prove a bad mistake, 

So this correction now please make. 



(Written in Berdia Wells Autograph Album.) 

Now Berdia when these lines you see 
Remember they were penned by me ; 

I wish you happiness through life. 

And when you're done with earthly strife, 

With me your angel mother greet. 
And walk with us the golden street. 



TAMMANY HALL 

The blackest place in all the land 

Is known as Tammany Hall ; 
Where old boss Tweed once held command 

Of demons great and small, 
Who came and went out at his will ; 

With trouble then our state was filled. 
But he soon met with a just fate. 

And paid the debt at a full rate; 

But now boss Murphy's took his place ; 

His will you must obey, 
Or with his imps he'll make you limp. 

And impeach you any day. 



122 



Oh, what a shame and a disgrace; 

Our goddess wants to hide her face, 
As she looks down upon the scene 

That's going on behind the screen, 

By orders of one old Boss Murphy 

Whose record always looks so scurvey 
Oh, that the people would rise up 

And disenthrone this wily pup ; 
With Satan then he'd surely go. 

And howl in everlasting woe. 
When Satan takes him down to hell, 

Things with our state then will go well. 



ON THE DEATH OF JULIA CLARK CRARY, WIFE OF 
GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 

Into the great beyond she's passed; 

Her race of life is run. 
And she has reached her home at last; 

O'er death the victory won. 

She's gone from whence; none e'er return. 

And where we all must go 
To meet our friends our hearts may yearn. 

Our time we cannot know. 

For seventy years she braved the storms 

Of life with courage true ; 
With kindness ev'ry heart was warmed, 

That met her ; all she knew. 

Friend, she was a friend indeed; 

A friend to all in trouble ; 
And if a little help they need J 

She always gave them double. 

She worked and toiled from morn till night. 

And gave herself no rest; '■ ^ 

123 



To bring her little ones upright 
She did her very best. 

No better mother ever lived, 
Or one that would do more; 

Her children best of care she give 
Their mother they adore. 

Her children mourn with me her loss 

As we review the past; 
Now on the wings of time I'm tossed, 

My home's broke up at last. 

I look back on the happy past, 
When 'round the family hearth. 

At evening all were home at last, 
And all was joy and mirth. 

'Twas then we sung the happy songs. 
That banished toil and pain; 

Would I could meet that happy throng 
And sing those songs again. 

My only hope is now to strive 
To meet this throng above; 

Then with the angels I shall live. 
And sing redeeming love. 



CANTON VILLAGE 

Now, Canton is our County seat 

Where all our Supervisors meet, 
A noble set of men they are, 

And of our county take good care — 
It is to Governor Silas Wright 

That Canton owes she got the site 
For Court House and our county gaol, 

Only for him we'd surely failed. 



124 



For he took iron bar and sledge 

And with the boys went on the ledge ; 
'Twas there he help'd to quarry stone, 

And staid until the work was done. 
He thus secured the count}^ seat, 

All opposition met defeat — 
To him we owe greatest respect 

And now with flowers his grave we'll deck. 

Now of our village we are proud, 

There's none can show a liklier crowd, . 
For students now parade our streets, 

With lovely girls, rosy and sweet. 
From ev'ry county in the states. 

They come to learn and graduate ; 
And if a young man needs a wife, 

Here is the best chance of his life. 

Miss Lena Bray learns them to cook. 

Something you schould not overlook. 
They learn to cook all kinds of food. 

And no hotel can show as good. 
And now our schools are something grand. 

And not surpassed in all the land. 
Now at our Dean just take a look 

For he's a very curious cook ; 

He's managed things with tact and skill; 

Fine buildings now grace College Hill, 
He certainlly has done his share 

To get the buildings put up there. 
And there's Professor Payson, too. 

Has done all any man could do 
To raise our village reputation. 

To give young men an education. 

Professor Gunnison ain't slow 

When he goes out to get the dough; 

He gathered mone}^ like a sack. 

And money now our schools don't lack 

And Sheahan farms and hustles 'round, 



125 



And learns the boys to till the ground, 
'Tis here they learn all kinds of work, 
And no one is allowed to shirk. 

Now if you come you'll learn the rest. 

And find our schools the very best 
To fit you for life's fearful race, 

And help you gain the highest place, 
For education will help you 

To do what no one else can do, 
For you know then what you're about 

And never hesitate or doubt. 

^ ^ * 

CRARY'S ORCHARD 

On the Pierrepont hills a fine orchard stands 

Where one hundred and twenty kinds vary 
In color and flavor and always command 

The highest price when shipped by Crary: 
In the picture you'll see a four year old tree 

Loaded down with the choicest of fruit, 
And no imperfections on them can you see 

Now this is a fact no one can dispute. 

What a wonderful God who created the trees 

With such varied and beautiful fruit, 
The grand tree of life could create with great ease 

Though atheist and idiots dispute. 
Now they must be sprayed and given some care. 

Then your cofifers with gold they will fill ; 
For if you will give them a reasonable share 

Of your time they will double your bill. 

PERRY'S VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE 

In eighteen hundred and thirteen 

Near Put-in-Bay might have been seen 

126 



A young man on Lake Erie's shore 

To history unknown before — 
And- with a gallant chosen few 

The trees for ships begin to hew; 
And in a marvelous short time 

They had five ships with four just nine. 

To meet the British fleet so fine 

September tenth that fateful date 
Upon which hung a nation's fate, 

This little fleet pushed out from land — 
With brave and noble men she's manned; 

While at the masthead hung a slip 
That said "Boys don't give up the ship." 

And soon the British fleet they sight 

And clear their decks ready to fight. 

The British fleet soon made a rush, 
Resolved the flagship now to crush. 

Then broadside after broadside sweeps — 
Her decks with human blood now weeps ; 

With dead and dying scattered 'round 
'Twas evident she must go down. 

Undaunted still now Perry takes 

An open boat and ofif he makes — 

To the Niagara now he sped, 
Holding Old Glory o'er his head. 

The British guns on him were turned, 
The water into foam was churned, 

But still Old Glory's staff he clasps, 
The bullets whistle through their caps, 

Not for a moment they relapse 

Their rowing till they reach the side 

Of the Niagara as she rides 
Upon the lake calm and serene — 

She proves ere night she's not so green. 
They soon raise Perry to her decks 

And for a moment he inspects. 
Then quick as flash his plan is laid 



127 



And then this signal he displayed, 

"Close in upon them now my boys." 

And then the cannon's awful noise 
Was echoed back from shore to shore 

In one unbroken constant roar. 
The British fieet was soon outmatched 

And victory from them quickly snatched, 
For Yankee grit had won the day, 

And victory's trophy borne away ; 

For one by one their flags they lower 

And Yankee ships tow them ashore. 
This battle with results was fraught, 

And to an end the war soon brought ; 
For from Detroit they now withdrew, 

With fighting Yankees nearly through. 
In memory of that battle great, 

We meet today to celebrate ; 

And though a century has rolled by 
We mean its memory shall not die. 

Down through the ages let it roll — 
By fathers to their sons be told. 

And thus the youth it will inspire 

To raise the Nation's standard higher. 

^ ^ ^ 

THE WAR IN EUROPE 
(August II, 1 91 4.) 

Old Francis Joseph, old imbecile. 
Has plunged all Europe into war. 

But he will find that in the sequel 
That all the world will him abhor; 

And though the future's from us hidden 

And we may search for it in vain 
It now looks like an Armageddon 

128 





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Where many millions will be slain. 

In Revelations 'tis foretold, 

And surely it will come to pass, 

For on the wings of time we roll. 
And we shall reach the end at last. 

When Francis Joseph declared war 
On Servia in such mighty haste, 

And thus the peace of Europe jar, 
He found that Russia he must face : 

The Germans now took up che row 
In hopes that Italy would help. 

But Italy is quiet now 

In hopes that she may save her scalp. 

The Kaiser now had a bad dream 

And now he shake's all o'er with fear ; 

He hears the Frenchman's Eagle scream 
And British Lion roar. 

He was so scared he did not wait. 
On them to declare legal war. 

But rushed on madly to his fate 
Such actions all the world abhor. 

The way he got it is a fright 

When he had crossed the Belgian line, 
He found that Belgian troops could fight 

Something that had escaped his mind. 

He thought that he could rush across 
And thus he should surprise old France, 

Now thirty thousand he has lost 
And only just begun the dance. 

Now Albert is too smart for him • 
Although his kingdom's very small, 

He finds his soldiers got the vim. 
And courage that will beat them all. 



129 



And that will give the Frenchman time 
Across the Belgian line to come, 

And English troops with them will chime 
While Russian bears attack his home. 

Now Italy he thinks to scare 

Into his wicked cruel war 
But for his threats she does not care — 

She knows his hands are full and more. 

He thought to Belgium he'd say scat, 
And then to France he would rush o'er 

He did not know where he was at 
Until he heard the cannons roar. 

And now he finds he's in a fix 

And shakes with fear when cannons roar, 
For every time the old clock ticks 

He finds that he is sinking lower. 

They'll sweep his fleet clean ofif the sea, 
And his merchantmen also they'll capture 

Then to an end this war will be, 
And end this bloody chapter. 

Soon he must tumble to their terms 

And the alliance must obey. 
For its no use for him to squirm 

Or even ask them for delay. 

And he will have to stay at home, 

And be a quiet peaceful chap, 
For if again they have to come 

They'll surely wipe him ofT the map. 

The Kaiser'll find that in the end 

He's run a very foolish race, 
For he will loS'e a million men, 

And surelv he will lose Alsace. 



130 



ON THE DEATH OF MRS. JENNIE BABOUR THOMP- 

SON CRARY 

The sharp scythe of time has cut one by one 

And laid them away in the tomb ; 
The last one is gone and the tolling bells chime 

Warns me I must meet the same doom. 

Yes, Jennie is dead, my dear beloved sister, 

And into the great beyond gone ; 
No language can tell how much I shall miss her 

While traveling life's journey along. 

I used to look forward, I am now looking back 

To the days when we all sang together. 
When never a cloud overshadowed our track, 

It was sunshine and fairest of weather. 

Those angel voices I now seem to hear ; 

In my dreams I live my life over. 
When we sang the old songs to my heart that so dear 

In the home of my father and mother. 

Now like a lone oak on the hillside of time, 

The storms of this life I must brave. 
But I'll show a bold front until the bells chime 

And they lay me away in the grave. 

God in his great mercy has hidden the day 
When our journey shall come to an end, 

And into the great dark beyond pass away 
Where night and day no longer blend. 

To that city of gold ; that home of the blest, 

Where friends never part any more 
Where if we've lived right we shall enter that rest 

And God and our Saviour adore. 

Now if we gain heaven we've accomplished the whole 

And finished the terrible strife. 
For when we have reached the coveted goal 

131 



He'll endow us with eternal life. 

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. WOODROW WILSON 

When the first lady in the land 

Is stricken down by death's cold hand, 

It through our nation sends a chill, 

But we'll submit to heaven's high will. 

Our president is plunged in grief, 

But 'twill his heart now give relief 
To know the nation mourns with him 

And that our eyes with tears are dim. 

With mourning now our flags we'll drape, 

Because from death none can escape : 
No mortal can retain their breath 

And none can bribe the Monster Death. 

Now she has run a noble race 

And justly held the highest place. 
For since to Washington she come 

She's tried to clean up every slum. 

The sick and poor she has relieved. 

And flowers from her they have received; 

It cheered them on their lonely way. 
That's why they mourn for her today. 

His dearest friend now he has lost 

And many a sigh and tear 'twiU cost; 
And though our brain with sorrow's racked, 

We cannot even wish her back; 

For through Death's portals she has passed, 
And reached her heavenly home at last, 

And there her Saviour she will meet, 
And walk with saints the golden streets. 



132 



MORRISTOWN 
(May ly, 1904.) 

In Morristown lies Cedar Cliff, 

On the banks of the river St. Lawrence, 
Where you can see both steam boats and skiffs, 

And the orchard that Crary warrants. 

Twelve kinds of fruit this orchard contains ; 

The number the tree of life bears. 
You'll see that our money was not spent in vain 

When with apples we fill up the cars. 

Or load down the boats for old England with fruit, 

With which very few can compare. 
A king or a queen I'm sure they would suit, 

Their flavors so fine and so rare. 

Now if a fine orchard you would like to see, 

Set out in rows straight as a line 
Then call at the Cliff and with me you'll agree 

That there's very few orchards as fine. 

* * * 

THE POET'S FAITHFUL OLD JACK 

Here lies poor old Jack ; he is flat on his back. 

He was always so loyal and true, 
Never barked at the moon, you knew 'twas a coon 

For poor old Jack never fooled you. 

When a partridge flew up he never would stop, 

Till he had him up into a tree. 
And then he would yelp and ask you to help, 

And sometimes you'd get two or three. 

The house he would watch, and night thieves he'd catch 

And set up a terrible roar, 
Which never would fail to make the thief quail, 

133 



And hasten away from the door 

Now poor Jack is dead ; no dog in his stead 
His place wath his master will fill ; 

For he was so brave he'd go into a cave ; 
And the largest of raccoons he'd kill. 

But now he's at rest and we'll do our best, 
To make sacred the place where he lies, 

And we'll lower him down into the cold ground 
While tears of regret fill our eyes. 



KING EDWARD AND QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

King Edward, Queen Victoria's son, 

Our cousin o'er the sea. 
His country's love and praise has won 

Since king he came to be. 

Long may he live his land to bless, 

And may we friendly be : 
The dove of peace between us rest. 

On both sides of the sea. 

And Alexandra, noble queen, 

So gentle and so kind, 
With noble deeds it will be seen 

Her pathway has been lined; 

And she has won her subjects' love 

By many a generous act ; 
She never seemed to feel above 

The dignity she does not lack. 

She gives them freely of her gold. 

Their sufiferings to relieve 
And now her praise from young and old 

Rings out upon the breeze. 



134 



When she with social gathering meets 

She's ahvays bhthe and gay, 
And every one so nicely greets, 

Embarrassment it takes away. 

Oh, England, may you long be blest. 

With this most noble queen 
For in her councils you can rest. 

Her wisdom's plainly seen. 

And she has reared her son with care 

To fill his father's place 
And furnish England with an heir 

That any throne would grace. 

^ ^ ^ 

WE ARE PASSING AWAY 

We are passing away to that far unknown world 

From which none will ever return 
Through time and through space so swiftly we're hurled 

That our fate we never can learn. 

We are drifting and drifting down life's dreary way, 

x\nd the landing we can't even see. 
For God in his mercy has hidden the day 

When the soul from the body is free. 

And thus we drift on from youth to old age, 

Through life's wild meandering scenes. 
And the little child is as wise as the sage. 

And knows just as well what death means. 

Oh how short are our lives ; tis but three score and ten. 

And how quickly it passes away. 
Yes, life's but a span from beginning to end; 

It seems but a very short stay. 

Our bodies will lay in the dark silent tomb; 
On earth they will know us no more, 

135 



But if we've lived right our souls will go home, 
To meet our friends on that bright shore; 

And when that great day of all days shall arri\£ 

And God bids the dead to arise, 
Oh then may our name on the Book be found, 

That will give us a home in the skies. 

With Jesus to roam through that City of Gold 

And view all the glories of heaven. 
Where there's one endless day and we'll never grow old 

When the tree of life to us is given. 

* * * 

THE WELL ON BULLIS HILL 
(Canton, May 23, 1909.) 

The drillers said it was no good — 

This crotched stick of cherry wood; 
It made no difference here or there. 

For there was water any where; 

This fact they said that they would prove 

When to the Bulhs Hill they move. 
The water witch began to laugh. 

They will be wiser soon by half; 

I've tried my stick upon that ground 

And there's no water deeper down, 
Within one hundred feet or more 

So it's no use to go down lower. 

Except the Httle stream they found 

Ten years ago when they dug down. 
Before they ever struck a blow 

The water witch told people so. 

And that much older they would grow 
Before they'd see the water flow. 

136 



For six long months they've banged away, 
While Miael they're board has had to pay, 

And keep their horse on hay they say, 
And furnish them with tons of coal^ 

Beside cement to fill the hole. 

Instead of water quick sands flow. 

Which is such treacherous stuff you know, 
That down no farther they could go 

And that's the reason why they went 
And filled the hole up with cement. 

And then through it they banged a hole 
Expecting soon to reach the goal ; 

But soon they struck the solid rock 
And day by day gave it a knock. 

But Moses rod they did not have, 

And so the rock no water gave. 
And still I see them bang away 

And spend their time day after day. 

And prove once more what the wise man said 

That fool killers are not all dead. 
Now at one hundred sixty feet 

A fearful accident they meet — 

Instead of water now to fill 

They broke the point off from their drill. 
It won't take long to tell the rest, 

They say that bought wit is the best, 

And there's one fact stands out quite clear. 
These chaps for wit paid mighty dear. 

The stick has found wells by the score. 
That's fifteen feet but few that's more, 

Then why play fool and take the chance 
And at the tune of hundreds dance? 



137 



ANNIVERSARY OF HORACE AND ELLEN BUTTER- 
FIELD 

Now fifty years have rolled around, 

And I remember well 
The wedding bells whose cheerful sound, 

The future news would tell. 
Now quickly gossip caught the sound 

And the news now just flew 
And every wiseacre in town 

The whole particulars knew; 

They said it surely'd come to pass, 

And sure enough it did. 
The wedding day rolled 'round at last 

And Horace and Ellen wed; 
And hand in hand for fifty years 

They've traveled up life's hill, 
And through dark valleys filled with tears, 

Yet they are with us still. 

They've lived among us fifty years 

And raised their little flock; 
They've had their joys and hopes and fears, 

But stood firm as a rock ; 
While nearly all that happy throng 

That met their wedding day, 
The hand of time has moved along: 

They're dead or moved away. 

And they have bravely struggled on 

Through both sunshine and rain. 
And they have passed now far beyond 

The years allotted man; 
Now may kind heaven protect and keep 

This always happy pair, 
And when at last they fall asleep, 

A heaven together share. 



138 



AN ACROSTIC ON ELEANOR WILSON, DAUGHTER 

OF THE PRESIDENT 

Earth's choicest blessings may you have ; 
Long Hfe and peace and joy; 
Ever be blest with husband's love 
And happiness without alloy, 
Nor sorrow ever cross your way. 
Or give you cause to weep. 
Rejoicing with your friends each day 

While richest laurels may you reap 

In field or forest as you go, 

Long on the road of life : 

Secure that home that's free from strife, 

On angel's wings you'll soar above 

Not one be missed, you used to love. 

^ ijc ^ 

DOES SPRAYING TREES PAY ? 

Just two years ago five-fifty was reached 

For a barrel of St. Lawrence fruit ; 
An object lesson it should teach, 

These facts no one can dispute. 

Four-fifty a barrel was last year's price 

For all that reached the city, 
And they were snatched up in a trice — 

Oh, what an awful pity 

To see fine fruit all go to waste 

Because it was neglected. 
Two-thirds the orchards 'round this place 

Are wholly unprotected. 

And then you'll hear these fellows say, 

"Oh boys, an orchard will not pay." 
Neglect your dairy and you'll see — 

How large your dividends will be. . 

139 



There's Oregon and Washington 

And CaHfornia in the van; 
Can ship fruit here and when they're done 

Are making money to a man. 

Then spray your trees and you will learn 

A lesson that will pay, 
That each man gets just what he earns 

And gets it every day. 

* * * 

ANDREW CARNEGIE, THE PHILANTHROPIST 

Oh, may my pen inspired be 

And write in lofty strains 
Of the noble deeds of Carnegie 

Whose memory will remain. 

And 'round our hearts will ever twine 

Brave son of liberty 
Who laid his millions on thy shrine 

The Philippines to free : 

And though Imperialists reject 

His ofifer, noble, grand. 
All who love freedom will respect 

This generous hearted man. 

Yes, unborn millions yet will bless 

This man of generous soul 
Whose noble heart could never rest 

Till he dealt out his gold. 

Oh had our government but heard 

The warning that he gave 
The air with songs of freedom stirred 

Would float back o'er the wave. 

Instead of groans and prayers and tears 
That burst forth from our slaves 



140 

t 



Who of their freedom now for years 
Are robbed by grasping knaves. 

With hbraries he's filled our land 
To teach the young and old, 

And every worthy cause this man 
Has helped on with his gold. 

Then let a song of freedom rise 

And reach the very stars 
For he's a hero in disguise, 

This noble son of Alars. 

And now long life may he enjoy. 

And many honors gain. 
And reach a heaven without alloy 

And with his Saviour reign. 



141 



ADDENDUM 
The following poems, written by Oringe Smith Crary, were 
omitted from part one of this volume. 

THE HEROES OF FORT SUMTER 

The traitors fire, he draws his sword, 

''Fire back ye sons of Mars/' 
They answer to their leader's call — 

A shout goes up from one and all, 
"We'll conquer or we'll nobly fall, 

Beneath the stripes and stars," 

Brave Anderson with sword in hand 

Cheers on his fainting men, 
They fight like warriors in despair, 

Though hunger pain is gnawing there, 
And shells are screaming through the air. 

Firm stand our little band. 

The battle rages fiercer still 

And still our emblem waves ; 
Like Leonidas and his band 

Who fought the Persian hand to hand, 
Firm as a rock I see them stand, 

Our little band of braves. 



Hi ^ ^ 

ELDER PADDOCK 

I used to hear this father sing 

When I was but a boy. 
And thought the angel's on the wing 

Would listen too with joy. 

How often I have heard him tell 
The wonders of his grace, 

How Jesus came on earth to dwell 
And save a fallen race. 

142 



The gospel banner he unfurled 

And pointed to the sky, 
And spoke in raptures of that world 

Where christians never die. 

I wept to hear the wonderous tale — 

The story all divine ; 
•Oh may it waft on every gale, 

And float through every clime. 

All glory to the great I am, 

Repeat it every tongue, 
All glory to the dying lamb 

That on the cross was hung. 

Seraphic legions strike the lyre 

And let the echo roll; 
Let heaven and earth and sea conspire 

And shake the very pole. 

* * * 

. ORA'S CURSE 

Inhuman fiend come listen to my curse; 
Judas, himself, could not receive a worse; 
Upon my head your hand why did you lay 
And mesmerize me in an evil day? 
Why did you teach my youthful' feet to stray 
Till lost in guilt and infamy I lay 
Unloved uncared for and by all, despised. 
Till death itself hides sorrow from my eyes? 
Oh do not think you can escape your doom 
Your guilt will haunt you to a villian's tomb, 
In those dark regions will thy frantic soul 
Rave in despair and on its billows roll. 
While demons haunt you and your pains deride. 
And plunge you headlong in the foaming tide. 
Swift I'll pursue you to your last retreat 
And tear your heart from its unhallowed seat, 
Thrice dip it deep where flaming billows roar, 

143 



And thrice I'll dash it on the burning shore, 
Then throw it shrieking to the fury scorn 
Amid clouds of sufftcating sulphur borne, 
That ev'ry passing fiend may hurl his dart 
And pierce it with unutterable smart. 
Swift, I'll pursue you where e'er you flee 
And curse and haunt you to eternity. 

* ^ ^ ^ 

THE HAY DEAL 

There lives three jockeys by the way. 
Have tubs to sell and tar and hay 

And when poor men come there for hay. 
Must take all three or go away. 

The doctor said he came for hay 

But if there was no other way. 
Then he would take the tar and tubs, 

Though they give him the mulagrubs. 

He said that money he had none 

But a fine watch that he would pawn ; 

Gift of a friend dear to his heart. 
That for no money he would part. 

They took the watch, it showed its best. 
And carefully put it in their vest, 

And when the jeweler looked it o'er 
'Twas worth one dollar and no more. 

Now Dr. Kitridge 'twill be seen 

For these three jockeys was too keen 

The doctor laughed and thus did say, 
" 'Twas my good luck to get the hay." 



144 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Ofinge Smith Crary 

Famous Buck of Cranberry Lake 

George Lucian Crary 

Crary's Orchard 

Thanksgiving at the Old Home 

Life in the Adirondacks V 






CONTENTS, PART I. 

POEMS OF ORINGE SMITH CRARY 

Page 

A Dog's Sad Experience i8 

Ac^rostic on Queen Victoria 22 

Adieu to the Grove 54 

American Eagle, The 59 

Bird of Paradise, The 6 

Buck, The Famous of Cranberry Lake 12 

Black Fox, The 18 

Battle of Borodino, The 19 

Burning of the Slave 27 

Babbitt as Snug as a Rabbit 32 

Breeches Girl, The 40 

Bethlehem of Judea 44 

Barbara Heck 48 

Bowles, Death of Elder 49 

Chased by Wolves 15 

Clarkson's Farm 36 

Christ, the Son of God Who Died etc 45 

Death of Silas Wright 9 

Dialogue Between the Devil and Southern Minister 10 

Description of a Horse Race 17 

Dog's Sad Experience 18 

Drunkard's Home, The 22 

Decoration Day Song 23 

Death, The Cruel Monster 25 

Death of an Only Son 25 

Death of Arabella Bartlett 30 

Death of Malinda Hosley 35 

Daisy, Ode to 39 

Death of Lucy May , 50 

Death of Elder Bowles 49 

Dedication Hymn 53 

Day of Judgment, The 60 

Elder Paddock 142 

Famous Buck of Cranberry Lake, The 12 

Fox, The Black 18 

Friendship 28 



Page 

Farewell to a Brother Mason 38 

Frothingham, The Infidel 53 

Genealogy of the Crary Family 4 

Golden Wedding, The 29 

Greeley and Grant , 56 

Horse Race, A Description of a 17 

Heavenly Railroad, The 5^ 

Jackson, On Horse of 31 

Lucy May, Death of 50 

Ode to the Daisy 39 

Ora's Curse 143 

Orvil Page 56 

Preface 3 

Potsdam, The Old School House in 32 

Potsdam and Watertown Railroad 21 

Pierrepont as it Was and Is Now 43 

Peleg Richmond, Answer to 46 

Pilgrim Fathers, Sons of The 50 

Potsdam as it was and is Now 57 

Rhode Island, The Home of My Forefathers 8 

Railroad, The Potsdam and Watertown 21 

Russell, Thomas V 31 

Railroad, The Heavenly 52 

Rope Stairs, The 56 

Soldier's Farewell, A 14 

Shadow of a Shade, The 20 

Sons of the Pilgrim Fathers 50 

The Heroes of Fort Sumter 142 

The Black Fox 18 

The Hay Deal I44 

The Shadow of a Shade 20 

The Old School House in Potsdam 32 

Volunteer, The Youthful 7 

Wright, Silas, Death of 9 

Wolves, Chased by 15 

Whitfield's Visit to England 26 

Wedding, The Golden 29 

What is the Old Man Thinking etc 43 

What I Believe 46 

Youthful Volunteer, The 7 



CONTENTS, PART II. 

POEMS OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY 

Page 

Acrostic on Vivian 1 1 

Anniversary of Horace and Ellen Butteriield 138 

Acrostic of Eleanor Wilson, Daughter of the President. . . .139 

Andrew Carnegie, The Philanthropist 140 

Battle of Plattsburgh 78 

Battle of the Sea of Japan 91 

Beautiful Fruit 95 

Barnhart's Island 113 

Berdia Wells, Written in Autograph Album 122 

Crary Family, Description of 65 

Carabao 70 

Circuit Rider, The 98 

Christ's Story of the Rich Man and Lazarus 115 

Canton Village 124 

Crary's Orchard 126 

Devil, A Personal 68 

Dying Hunter, The 80 

Death of Jennie Barbour Thompson Crary 131 

Death of Mrs. Woodrow Wilson 132 

Death of Carmelita and Winnie Crary 108 

Farm, Give Me The "J2 

Fruit, Beautiful 95 

Friend of My Boyhood, The 114 

Fifty Years Ago 116 

Gettysburg, The Battle of 69 

Give Me The Farm 'J2 

Game Laws, Oppressive 94 

Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Robinson 107 

History of Man 73 

Hunter, The Dying 80 

Honor of the Boys Who Fell at Vera Cruz 89 

Home, My Dear Old on the Hill loi 

Indian Legend, An 84 

Julia Clark Crary, Death of 123 

King Edward and Alexandra 134 



Page 

Lincoln's Birthday 66 

Legend, An Indian 84 

Lost Hunter of the Adirondacks, The 93 

Life in the Adirondacks 99 

Man, The History of 73 

Morristown 133 

My Dear Old Home on the Hill loi 

My Name 122 

Naval Battle of the Sea of Japan 91 

Oppressive Game Game Laws 94 

Opportunity 96 

Carmelita and Winnie Crary 108 

Old Man's Dream, The 117 

Plattsburgh, The Battle of 78 

Poet's Faithful Old Jack 133 

Potsdam's Centennial 106 

Perry's Victory on Lake Erie 126 

Roosevelt and Aguinaldo 112 

St. I>awrence County 81 

Spanish War, The 83 

Stanford White's Den 102 

Sheridan's Ride Down the Valley 104 

Signs of the Times 118 

Spring, Summer and Autumn . 120 

Senator Hoar 120 

Trappers and Hunters of the Adirondacks 75 

Thanksgiving at the Old Home 88 

Temperance Song 109 

Tammany Hall 122 

Vera Cruz, In Honor of the Boys Who Fell at 89 

War, The Spanish 83 

Windfall, The Great 97 

Warning of Fire, Flood, Drouth etc 105 

We Are Passing Away 135 

Well on Buhis Hill, The 136 

War In Europe, The 128 



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